Let's Give it a Shot
by iwokethedragon
Summary: What if all it took back in their first year was a bullet to signify and provoke all the unsaid feelings in the relationship? [AU Season One Fic, set after Little Girl Lost, before A Death in the Family.]
1. Chapter 1

_**Trying out this story, shouldn't be very lengthy, but what the hell. We'll see how it goes. If anyone's intrigued, I'll continue with it. This chapter's short, but any following ones should and will be longer, if I get there. So you could call this a prologue. **__**Let me know what you think!**_

_***Disclaimer, of course***_

* * *

There's something sinister about the way the shadows play across the back alleys of Manhattan. Narrow brick walls and dirty, damp paths, ominous in their way of leading one further into oblivion. Detective Kate Beckett knew her way around the city – both an advantage and an occupational hazard – but no amount of tracing and retracing her paths over the years could tell her where she was or how she'd get out of the twists and turns and stubborn darkness. At the moment, it wasn't her concern. Her concern was getting out alive, and with any luck, with her suspect in cuffs.

She'd lost him somehow, and before that, she had lost Castle while in pursuit of the mobster. The man had that ridiculous Kevlar vest of his own on him, she knew, but she still grappled with an overwhelming twinge of worry.

But her main focus was on getting her suspect, because if she managed to get him out, then there'd be no threat to either her or Castle while they were in this maze. So when she drew her Glock, a familiar determination filled her, along with an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness for the man who liked to call her his partner.

Oh, hell. She liked it, too. A little. _Just_ a little.

A sound echoed off the walls behind her, and as she turned to face it in her isosceles stance with her gun, a shot cracked and narrowly missed her ear. She ignored the whirr that resounded in her eardrums, a terrifying post-trauma snare that wasn't unfamiliar, and tried to make out her shooter. Nothing.

"Beckett!"

She spun again. There Castle stood, at the opposing mouth of the alleyway she stood in the middle of, his face barely illuminated by a lit-up green exit sign hanging above his head. Well, one second he was there, and the next he was knocking his whole body against her. They both fell with a crash into the back of a garbage can, which luckily held its centre of gravity.

"Castle, what are you—"

"Stay down!"

She had to suck the air into her lungs and close her eyes. There was a blinding pain above her hairline from where she broke the fall against the metallic can, and as the stars in her vision started to clear, she looked up to see that Castle was hovering over her, very closely. The concern in his expression was almost shattering, but the fear fought to overtake it, putting a tremble in his whisper as he said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, y-yeah, I'm fine. Did you get eyes on him?"

"No, I was messin' around. _Yes_ I got eyes on him." He chanced a risky glance over the top of the rubbish and ducked down almost comically fast again when a bullet tried to nick him in the forehead. It was close enough to rustle his hair a little.

For once, the metrosexual didn't seem to mind.

One, two, three more bullets pinged off the face of the bin, which fortunately proved to be made of steel, but wouldn't be remaining upright if Castle hadn't been holding it steadily in front of them, his shield to wield. Then it was silent, bar for the quiet snap and click of a gun reloading.

"Where is he?" Kate breathed, straining her ears for the slightest sound to carry from across the alley.

"Not far."

"Tell me where."

"See the dip in the wall over there, where the pipes are running?" He waited for her to look over. "There. He's taking cover, he knows we're armed."

"I'm the cop here, Castle. _I'm_ armed," she corrected. "And I can't get a clean shot at him with you on top of me."

"Right, sorry."

They rearranged themselves so that she could crouch in front of him, but it only afforded her a shot if their perp would come out of his hiding place, and if he didn't shoot her first when he did show. "No corked champagne bottles handy this time, huh, Rick?"

He knew that for what it was behind its smokescreen. Not just fibbing, but a request for help. She was asking for his help, and that seemed to give him a whole lock of unnerving confidence because he said, "No, but something just as good." Then he made to stand, but Beckett was faster and in admonishment, she reached for him by the wrist and jerked him right back down.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" she hissed.

He was unfazed, returning her whisper. "He'll take a shot at me and you'll get a clean one on him."

"Are you crazy? Are you having a meltdown?" Her voice was rising in her incredulity.

He winced and made a wild gesture for her to calm down. "I'll be fine. I've got Kevlar, right?"

"What if he shoots you in the _head_?"

"He won't. He won't even be able to tell what's what in this light."

"That really doesn't help you."

"Look, do you wanna wait here forever or do you want a shot?"

She faltered. But her resolve didn't crumble just yet. "Castle, we'll work something out, even if it means him getting away for now. You are _not_—"

Shock swallowed the rest of her sentence as he abruptly pressed his mouth against hers in a deep kiss. Deep, but brief. He pulled away and read her expression, which would elicit a laugh from him under normal circumstances.

"Make. The shot. Count. You can do this."

He watched her face start to rearrange and then he was up, and a shot went off.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I want to thank everyone who reviewed and everyone who followed/favourited. Means a lot to know some people are intrigued. :) **__**If anyone's got any ideas, suggestions, etc, leave a review or PM me and let me know. Still a very open storyline.**_

_**Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Deep breaths.

They rallied in their pace of her frantically beating heart as she tried to soothe her frayed nerves. Slowly, she silently told herself, in and out, in and out. Slowly. But she simply couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs, and it did nothing for her erratic pulse, and so every time her mind lapsed back to the images of him, Castle, laying there in the alley, a shallow, shuddering breath overtook her senses and she fell back into the uneven rhythm of shaky respiration.

The sight of him from before haunted her, his blood, streaming from where the bullet wounded him on his shoulder. How she and their suspect both froze, how the realisation dawned on her that if she didn't shoot the man already the whole thing would have been just ridiculous, how she put a round high in his midriff and watched him choke and go down. Then how she was left to watch the consciousness leak out of Castle in a stream of red agony as their back-up finally found them and everything went blurry in a haze of white-and-blues and red beaming lights. She remembers cradling Castle's head and feeling liquid warmth stain the side of her hand at one minute, and being pulled back and urged into the back of an ambulance the next.

With what could only be described as a sob wracked through her and pushed her back against the tiled, thoroughly disinfected wall of the hospital corridor. God, she thought, how the hell could he have been so stupid? How could _she_ have been so stupid? The ride-a-long thing was a joke. She should have known he'd get hurt – or freaking _killed_ – sooner or later, she just didn't expect it to be a ruse to catch a suspect, a ruse purely of will.

A ruse purely of_ arrogance_, she quickly corrected herself.

Then she thought about the way he kissed her and the ridiculous sweetness about the whole thing. Her heart twisted hard in her chest and suddenly she found herself laughing into the quiet hallway. _Laughing_.

* * *

"What's going on? How's he doing?"

"He made it through the surgery just fine and with no complaints at all." The doctor gave a wan smile and looked around Beckett for anyone else. "Are you family?"

"I'm his partner. His mother and his daughter will be here soon, though, but how's he doing? Is he going to be fully okay? He's still going to be able to walk and everything, right? I mean, his nerves weren't—"

"No, no, no, believe me, he's fine, ma'am. With rest and time, he'll be up and about in no time."

Beckett blew out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Her emotion seemed to evoke a thought in the man, because he glanced to her bare left hand which was holding her bicep in folded arms, and then he caught her off guard by asking, "How long have the two of you been dating?"

She blinked then shook her head. She didn't really mind the question; she knew hospital staff always tried to be as friendly and communicative as possible. But she was still going to correct him. "No, I – he's not – I'm not that kind of partner." She sighed. "Can I see him?"

The man gave her a funny look, like she spoke in some foreign language all of a sudden, but he smiled good-naturedly anyway and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. He's currently asleep," he said, and she had to restrain from clicking her tongue in disbelief. "Asleep" was usually nice-talk for "unconscious." "But he should be awake within the hour."

"Can I sit with him?"

"You most certainly can."

* * *

A warm fuzziness spread throughout Rick Castle's limbs as he gradually became aware, letting him feel the comfort around him, before it slowly dissipated and pain filtered its way into its wake. It brought a barely-audible groan from him. A thunderous throbbing started to beat against his temples as his body became heavier by the second. Painkillers, he guessed. They must've been good to have him feel so...thick, and he could tell that they were strong enough, keeping a lid on the burning he felt in his left shoulder.

He heard something, somewhat distant, as if he were underwater. A voice, soft and warm and encouraging, taking into notice his awakening. He couldn't take in the words as coherent, but they were there, soothing him. Then he felt it, a light grasping of his hand which lay limp at his side, but upon the touch, his own fingers curled around the new ones almost reflexively.

He opened his eyes.

"Hey there, Mr. Bourne."

He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Mmm. Hey."

"How you feeling?" Kate asked, her eyes raking over his face, his shoulder, then flicking over to monitor his heart monitor.

"Really strange." He waited until her gaze came back to his, and when it did, he added, "I figured if I was to wake up next to you some day, I wouldn't be wearing a hospital gown."

She huffed a laugh at that, still managing to roll her eyes in that way she does, and then he couldn't resist.

"And even if otherwise, you'd definitely be in sexy nurse attire—" She cut him off by spooning an ice chip into his mouth from the cup sitting at his bedside, and he had to stifle a grin around it.

"A lot less charming when you're drugged up, Castle," she said, one hand still curled around his own as she set the now-empty spoon back in the cup.

He hummed, not in disagreement, and then she had to grin. But a sigh escaped and the corners of her lips fell into something of a tight line. "Castle..."

His head turned toward her and he registered some pain as the strain of his neck pulled at his shoulder a little. He held back a moan and looked at her seriously then, his voice lower. "Did you get him?"

A flash of worry appeared and disappeared in her eyes, vanishing when he squeezed her hand in reassurance. Then she ran her free hand through her short, already mussed up hair for apparently the umpteenth time, and said with some amount of stress, "Yeah, I got him. He's alive, thankfully," Castle grunted in something like disapproval, but she continued anyway, "And with a confession to our murder or not, he'll be locked up for a number of other charges. We're sure it's him. Messy as it is, it's a wrap."

They lulled into silence for a while, both knowing but not really acknowledging the way her thumb stroked the back of his hand. It distracted him from the pain, however subtle, that he felt, and he wasn't about to call her out on it to make her back off and retreat back to her solitary, independent ways.

He respected – no, he _admired_ those ways of her. But he was enjoying this side of her, the actual concern, and he could see it in her eyes and the way she was looking at him, how grateful she was. His pulse fluttered like a bird against his wrists and neck at the thought.

No. No, the emotion she was showing him was too much to chase away.

Finally, she spoke again. Her voice was unmistakeably sullen now. "Castle, once you're fit to go home, you're staying home. All right? This..." She shook her head and dropped her gaze to their entwined hands, absently, but still didn't stop her ministrations. "This ride-a-long, it's over. By now, you should have enough material for your book, right? So no more playing cop."

He fixed her with his gaze, waiting for her to look up, and when she did, he saw that she was waiting for him to say something. So he didn't.

A knot of – what? Sadness? – formed between her eyebrows. "I know you signed those forms, that you were okay with putting yourself at risk, but, Castle, you could have _died_ tonight. Things like this make good movies, good books, but this isn't fiction. This is reality." A full ten seconds of silence passed before she added, "Castle, say something."

He drew in a long sigh, managed to suppress a wince, and said, "You really have no idea."

A look of confusion crossed her features. "I don't—"

"Kate, it's almost been a year. I could have written a dozen books about you even if I left after we worked that Tisdale case together. I came back because...well, I wanted to know you."

"Why?" She found herself leaning in toward him a little, studying his steady gaze and the way he looked back at her.

He smiled faintly. "I knew you'd prove to be worth knowing. But even then, it's not so much that that keeps me around till now." He flexed his own hand around hers and held it tight. "You're a mystery to me, Kate. One that I know I'm not going to solve, and I love that. It's...addictive, in a way." He took on a playful expression, and she was grateful for the chance to breathe again. "You're my own personal brand of heroin, Bella." He was grinning now, and when he started to become blurry, she dropped her head to conceal both the moisture in her eyes and her answering grin.

"That was bad. That was really bad." She shook her head in romanticised disapproval. "It's annoying enough when you refer to _good_ movies, but..."

"Oh, we were having our own little moment and I ruined it, didn't I?"

"Kinda."

His head lolled back onto his pillow, the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes, and once more, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. It was good, the levity he offered when she needed it. She'd be reluctant to admit it even to herself, but the man got to her in ways that she didn't want to think about. It suddenly made her want to either maim him or kiss him. Maddening.

"You know," he said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts, "I think I did okay out there. Much better than champagne."

"Yeah, just – not as tasty," she teased.

"Well, you would know."

A remark failed her as she felt her cheeks heat up. Oh, for God's sake. "Castle, I – I mean, about that – it's—" _What the hell, Katie?_

He raised his eyebrows, watching her struggle with blatant amusement. Fortunately for her, he didn't let her get far and said, "It's okay, Beckett. I was kidding around. Spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? Don't worry about it, I won't gloat or needle you about it or—"

She halted the rest of his words as she swiftly stood to lean over him and cover his lips with her own, just a gentle caress, mindful, but firm enough to shut his damn mouth. He didn't seem to mind. His hand came up to stroke the side of her neck, hold her there for a few moments even when she drew back a little. She barely got a chance to revel in the look of utter surprise on his face when someone entered the room.

No, when someone _flourished_ into the room.

"Oh! Kiddo!" Beckett's forehead took a dive for Castle's pillow, right above his uninjured shoulder. "Might want to consider asking for a 'do not disturb' sign in here, huh?"


	3. Chapter 3

A rather unenthusiastic "Hey, Mother" whined from Rick Castle as Kate moved back, not stopping to resume sitting on her bedside stool, but way back to the wall of his private room. She plastered a smile on her face for the sake of the two new people in the room and rocked her head back none-too-gently against the cool tile.

The obvious worry in Martha Rogers' eyes didn't even compensate for the knowing grin she was giving to the two damn _teenagers_ in the room, and neither of them was the fifteen-year-old redhead who swooped down upon her father to hug him.

"We were so worried about you, Dad," Alexis said breathlessly, the young girl's face split into an ecstatic grin.

"We? Who's we?" remarked Castle, making a show of looking over Martha's shoulder for others as he wrapped his good arm around his daughter's shoulders.

"Very funny, young man."

"Are you all right? I mean, what happened? We were told you were shot but that's all, we didn't even know if you were going to be okay, and no one would say what happened and all we were told to do was come to the hospital because you were getting _surgery_ and—"

Kate felt a little surprised at the girl's audacity, but then amusement sunk in as she read both Castle's and his mother's expressions, seeing that it was apparently a normal reaction for the daughter to go all super-sonic on them. Then she felt a pang of responsibility and it sobered her up. "Alexis, Martha, I have to apologise."

All three heads swivelled around to her, and she had to admit that there were similarities shared amongst all of them. She faltered with hesitation, especially with the way Castle looked at her, but she knew she owed them this. "I should've been more careful with the task and I shouldn't have let Cas—_Rick_ come with me on that one. I made a mistake, and I'm afraid that that mistake got him shot. I'm so sorry."

There was a moment of silence were Alexis seemed to be looking at her in consideration, Martha with that wise, knowing look, without a single ounce of blame or accusation. It surprised her.

"That is _so_ not what happened," came a sharp whine.

Three heads turned to Castle, then, and he took the liberty to put in his own story. This should be good, thought Kate, and she cocked her head to the side. "Beckett _did_ try to stop me from going with her; she even tried locking the car doors before I got out. But she's never been too successful with keeping me away from the action." The childish pride in his voice was enough to make his story as believable as it was. Still, Kate felt a little guilty.

"Oh, Richard, what did you do?" his mother said as he indulged in a satisfied grin.

"Now, before you think it's completely ridiculous, just know that what I did wrapped up our case." He was stalling, and sure enough, he paused before his grand finale. "I let the guy take a shot at me so Beckett could get one at him."

Alexis' eyes widened in a way a parent's would when their young child tried to proudly tell them that they ran about the house with scissors. "You used _yourself_ as _bait_?"

"I sure did," Castle grinned. "And it was purely out of my own bravery."

"_Stupidity_," Beckett substituted aloud.

"And Detective Beckett only tried to stop me. So don't believe a humble word that comes out of her mouth, despite that it's a shame because it's not something you hear very often—" Beckett's huff cut him off and the two lighter-shade-of-red redheads chuckled.

"You want another shooting, bucko?"

Castle just grinned back at her, but there was evidently so much more than just amusement in his gaze. Beckett quickly looked away and it only seemed to please him further.

Alexis seemed mildly amused, too, but Martha chose to spare poor Kate and broke the silence, "So what has the doctor said? How long will you be in here?"

Castle's brow furrowed and he looked to Kate. "I don't know, I haven't been awake very long. Were you filled in?"

"Yeah," from the detective, pausing to recall. "Yeah, they said they want you here until this evening, at _least_, so they can do regular checks and change your dressings a few times. It'd be with medical advice for you to stay overnight, too—"

"Not a chance."

"Yeah, I told them you'd say that." She smirked at him. "So they said that it's fine to leave tonight, with the promise that you'll rest over the next few days, take the painkillers they give you and make sure to have people around you who can help you with things like changing your bandages and getting dressed and...yeah." She nodded in a way of summary, pursing her lips.

Castle looked back to his mother and Alexis with a grin. "You guys can do that, right?"

"If it means you'll come home to us tonight, then of course," from Alexis.

"Great." He took on a business-like tone that elicited an undeniable grin from Kate. "We'll work out a schedule; you can each take on shifts on cooking, cleaning, dressing, bathing—"

"Dad," Alexis groaned. Martha wasn't pleased any more than her granddaughter sounded.

"I don't envy the two of you over the next few days," said Beckett with a laugh.

"But you will visit, won't you?" from Castle.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head a little, but her lips twitched into a smile more sincere at the genuine hope in those sinfully blue eyes.

"I'll try, but don't be too hopeful," she teased. "Actually getting work done for once this year might hold me up."

"Oh, ha, ha. Wait. What if we catch a case?"

Her eyebrows twitched in amusement at the use of 'we' but she didn't call him out on it. Not in a hospital gown, she wasn't that bad. Instead, "So...?"

"_So_," he started, as if he was preparing the most obvious statement, "You'll _have_ to come over to visit. You'll have to seek my consult somehow."

She laughed at that, his two family members looking between them as if it were an entertaining tennis match. "I'm fairly certain I can handle it myself, like I did for so long before you showed up."

"You wound me, Detective."

She answered him with a somewhat tired smile and Martha was quick to pick up on it. "Katherine, darling, you should go home and get some rest. You've been up all night long with this man." Beckett didn't miss the quick flash of his eyes at the innuendo, but it simmered down when she scalded him with a glance.

"No, Martha, really, I'm fine," she said, addressing the woman kindly. "I've pulled all-nighters before." Then she looked directly at Castle and said, "Occupational hazard." He grinned.

"Well," said the older woman, unfazed, "At least accompany me on a request of much-needed caffeine." Without any reason to say no, Kate indulged in a smile and nodded before Castle's mother added wryly, "You can fill me in on the details of these recent events." And her stomach flipped.

She turned to Castle to try to buy herself a few seconds to compose herself. "I – Castle, you want anything? I'm edgy on the caffeine for you, but I can bring you decaf, or tea, or—"

"Beckett, are you bleeding?"

Is she – "What?"

"You're bleeding." He was frowning. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. Then he gestured at his own hairline and she felt around her forehead, sure enough, to feel little dried blood just under a few locks of her hair.

"I didn't even realise," she said absently, gingerly touching the top of her head, feeling a slight swelling where she imagined came the sharp connection with the bin earlier that night.

"You should get that looked at."

She gave him a look. "It's just a cut; I'll be fine once I take a shower."

"Beckett."

"Decaf?"

He sighed but gave in. "Yes. Thank you."

* * *

"So, Katherine—"

"Oh, please, call me Kate." She held her own caffeine-full cup to her lips, and with the other hand, traced the rim of Castle's cardboard cup with her fingertips. As the warm liquid soothed her throat and filled her with that familiar buzz, she added a single sachet of sugar to the latter.

"Kate, darling, I can see it, you know. In your eyes."

She froze. "I'm sorry?"

"The way you're feeling. It's been all over your face since I've seen you this morning," the elder woman said, apparently seeing right through the detective.

She panicked. "I – Martha, he—"

"No, no. Look, I know how it must be eating at you despite what we tell you." Wait. What? "But you can _not_ blame yourself for what happened to Richard."

"Oh," Beckett breathed, her tense hands relaxing as she felt her pulse stutter.

"I'm sure that you did everything you could to prevent him getting hurt, and I can imagine him all-too-clearly not giving up on pestering you, but surely you're not the one to fault here."

Beckett turned to give the woman a tense smile, the best that she could do. "That's nice, Martha, and I'll admit that I wish I knew what the hell was going on in that man's head when he did what he did, but..."

"No," Martha interrupted lightly, shaking her head, "No buts about it. It's been difficult, trying to get used to the idea of him out there, putting his life at risk with this new hobby he has, but let me tell you something, dear." Martha smiled warmly at Kate, who was holding her breath all of a sudden. "He thinks you are worth it all and more, and I've decided that that's good enough for me. I should be thanking you for the changes I've seen in that man."

Still not breathing, although her lips were parted for it, Beckett let her gaze flit down to the cups she was holding as Martha gave her that same damn _knowing_ smile and began back down the corridor from the coffee machine.

She was about to shake it off and follow in suit when the redheaded woman sing-songed over her shoulder, "And, Kate, you might want to make sure to have the door locked next time."

Wha— next time...?

* * *

_**Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, good ones or bad ones. If you like it, let me know, and if you don't, let me know. I'm striving to improve but I can't do that if you're all being nice or keeping to yourselves! :3**_

_**Another thanks to the readers so far.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**I wanna thank those who reviewed; you have no idea how much you make my day. I can only hope that you'll continue to enjoy. Again, let me know how you think this story is going!**_

* * *

Beckett walked back into his room, her features ominous, but not unkind, as she held out one decaf white coffee to the man with staples and white gauze over a shoulder that formerly held a bullet. He smiled his thanks and reached for it with his good arm, yet still, an uncomfortable pull vibrated from the wound. As he suppressed a groan, Kate resumed her place against the wall, grateful for the support she could purchase from it.

"Oh, detective, I'm sorry, I've taken your seat," muttered Alexis as she made to get up from her father's side, but Kate stopped her by motioning with her hand.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I want to stretch my legs, anyway." Not a complete lie; the barrier between her and Castle was welcomed.

The girl relented and let out a soft sigh, addressing her father now, who was noisily air slurping the coffee that was still too hot to drink. "What are we going to do with you?"

"Can I put ice chips in this coffee to cool it down?"

"I mean, it's hard enough to look after you when you're healthy and intact, but like this?"

"It won't do anything to the taste, right? I mean, they'll just melt."

"You're lucky it's a Thursday. I can take two days off school and then we have the weekend, and hopefully you'll be in better shape by Monday so I won't have to miss any more."

"Or maybe they do something to their ice, you know, to keep it cold. Some kind of chemicals, maybe."

"_Dad_."

"What?"

Alexis' head flopped forward onto his bed, face disappearing at his side and it took all of Beckett's will power not to laugh at the two, their dynamic. She didn't realise it, but she couldn't take her eyes away from them, watching them with amusement, yes, but also admiration and...longing?

"Ice is ice, Castle," she said then. "It's water."

"You know, you do look tired, detective," he responded, an arm stretching out to reach for the cup of ice chips, a job that Alexis immediately took over from him.

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

"Why is that sexy?"

"Dad," said Alexis.

"Yeah, _Dad_, behave. But you could use some rest yourself," from Kate.

"I will if you will," he retorted.

She let a whole five seconds pass, considering him, before finally relenting by holding her two hands up. "Fine. I'll go." Then she turned to Martha and Alexis. "You guys will make him live up to his end?" They both nodded with smiles so alike on their faces. Kate turned back to Castle and felt her heart flutter at the grin smeared on his face, the one that made him look like a little boy. _What in the hell?_

"I'll see you, Castle." Brief. She was only going home. No hugs or kisses necessary. She'd see him soon. Ugh. She definitely needed to move. Heading for the door, she said, "Just try not to get shot again, okay? Maybe keep a bottle of champagne handy, carry it around with you."

He indulged in a chuckle. "I'll make a note of it. Detective?"

She let her hand linger on the doorknob. "Hmm?"

"Could you stop by later? I'd like to talk to you."

She drew in a deep breath and smiled. "Yeah. See you later."

* * *

Beckett couldn't decide between sports or weather, neither of which she really cared about, as her fingers roamed over the buttons on the remote control. Sports won then; the racing commentary of the over-excited Hugo Boss-clad commentators did well with distracting her mind as she poked around a carton of noodles branded with a Chinese symbol she didn't care to decipher. Could have meant bullshit for all she knew.

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table then, and the wood magnified the sound, provoking her to answer it a little faster.

"Hey."

"What do you want, Castle?"

"It's nice to hear your voice, too, Detective." She rolled her eyes but cracked a grin. "I just wanted to know when you were thinking on calling in."

"Is that a thinly veiled way of asking me to come over now?"

"No." She muted the TV to hear him better, but his voice was raised in defence, anyway. "I was merely establishing a timeline of the events here. Something you taught me."

"Fair enough," she allowed. "If you could just write it down, it'd be fantastic for the detectives working your homicide tonight unless you tell me what you want."

"You make threats sound appealing, you know that?" he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Castle."

"I'm lonely." Did he just whine?

She sighed as she set down her ordered-in dinner, taking caution when the silverware fork almost pushed its centre of gravity off. "Where's Alexis and your mom?"

"I sent them home about an hour ago, told them not to come back until nine, to take me home. I didn't want them to stay all day, of course, but I didn't think I'd be this _bored_." He huffed down the line and she had to hold in a laugh.

Then she took pity, and the few cartons sitting on her table, some still unopened, gave her an idea. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I tried, but the food here sucks, too." She noticed his voice lower all of a sudden, as if a member of staff walked in and busted him. "...I just figured I'd wait till I got home."

There was a pause and then he heard scuffling sounds on her end and then a quick "On my way" before the line went dead.

* * *

"You're lucky I over ordered tonight, Castle."

"Is that a thinly veiled way of saying that you got extra on purpose because you knew I'd call?"

She shot him a look as she sat back down on her stool, handing him over a can of Diet Coke. The tray on his bedside table now littered with empty cartons and forks, she reached around to pull over the little bin and began clearing it.

"But thank you. I owe you one." Just when her features softened again, he added, "Now, would you like that in cash, cheque, or full on the lips?"

Just as she smacked him on his side, he made a show of wincing and grunted. She backpedaled immediately. "Oh, Castle, did that—you're smiling. You're smiling. You're an _ass._"

He laughed and said, "Hey, I told you I wouldn't needle you about it after _I_ did it. I didn't say anything about your little confession."

"Confession," she echoed, flicking her eyebrows up.

"Yes. That being how you finally realised that you're absolutely _powerless_ to resist my charms and good looks."

"If I actually hurt you now, and I don't believe you, you're going to regret that," she said. She soon became a woman of her word when he gave her a smouldering look, and made a reach for his ear. He yelped before she could, and she spared him. Taking his still unopened can, she popped the top with a hiss and stuck in a straw. "There." When his face started to rearrange, she added, "I know it hurts when you strain your neck. You're not very good at hiding it."

Unable to decide between feeling amused or being touched, Castle just smiled at her and took a drink by ways of gratitude. She nodded and did the same thing with her own, minus the straw, as they lulled into a short silence.

"I liked it, you know," he said. And then, "Both times."

She didn't know what to do with that. Her diaphragm fluttered and that let her know that she felt similarly, but how to let him know that without actually letting him know that?

"You know..." he started, and the seriousness in his tone made her stomach flip. "I might not have made it here, and if I hadn't..." He paused to watch her startled gaze meet his again. He fought the urge to grin. "Well, I think that, given the tragic close call, that everything should be appreciated and valued. You know, while it still can and all."

She narrowed her eyes at him, suppressing a dopey smirk. "Oh, really?"

"Yep," he said, nodding profusely now. "Oh, yep, definitely. You never know what life's gonna deliver, a lesson we learned in the last twenty-four hours. So we can't afford to lie to ourselves, can we?" He didn't wait for an answer. "No. No, in fact, we should be making the most of it."

"Right."

"Go to dinner with me."

"What?"

"You heard me."

She faltered. He had asked her almost a year ago and she said no with no small amount of ease, not that she'd let him know that. But a year ago was nothing compared to now, now she...what? Now she what?

Now she _liked_ him, she realised, and it would've smacked her in the face if it didn't feel like it wasn't the whole story. Before she could delve any further into what the hell that was supposed to mean, she blurted out an "Okay." Then, closing her eyes, she counted to three, cursed herself, and repeated calmly, "Okay, Castle."

When she looked at him again, he was making a face that was damn near impossible to resist. So she didn't. She leaned over him so her lips barely touched his, in a way that made the sensitive skin tingle, and said, "One date."

She could tell he was fighting to keep his voice even when he said, "Date? Who said anything about a date? I was just talking about getting dinner some time, like we've done before."

She fought hard not to grin when her mouth found his ear and she whispered, "Then I guess I'm asking _you_ out."


	5. Chapter 5

_**I promise that I'll quit with the little notes up here...I mean, I'll try. But you guys just need to know how much I appreciate you reading, and some of the responses have just been wonderful. So, thank you. And I'm zipping it, now. Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

"So am I the first person you've led on or have there been others, Detective?"

"Oh, quit your whining, Castle," said the detective as she tossed a pillow at his midriff. Peeling his comforter off his bed, she threw it over her shoulder and headed out to the living room. "I am not leading you on."

"You are so."

She stopped and turned abruptly and found that he was close enough for her to touch, so she did. Flattening a firm palm on his chest, she said, "I'm offended. Shut up." He opened his mouth and closed it again with a pop. "Because A, we already had dinner today, and B, I only have _your_ best interests at heart. In case you didn't notice, you have a fresh bullet hole in your shoulder. Tonight, of all nights in the year, is not date night. That's not what I was implying by coming back here and you know it."

"I can eat dinner, for crying out—oh..." His eyes lit up. "_Oh._ Unless you have more...physical activities planned for this date. Is that it? Because I wouldn't complain, but I can assure you that these bandages couldn't and _wouldn't_ hold me back."

She scoffed and spun on her heels, throwing his comforter down on his couch, muttering something that sounded like "incorrigible."

"Katherine, dear, don't listen to him. It's the antibiotics talking, not my raising," from the woman not collectively but affectionately named Hurricane Martha.

"You heard that."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed." She grinned at Kate and as Castle left to retrieve more from his bedroom, she added, "It was only a matter of time before the two of you got together. Me and my wallet are just disappointed that it wasn't sooner."

"Oh, no, Martha, we're not—we're only going to—wait, your wallet? You had a bet? With whom?"

"To dinner, I know, I know. But you and I both know that he's not going to let go after one dinner." The elder woman ignored the latter part of what Beckett said and merely winked.

"All right, this is the last of it," announced Castle upon his return, tossing down about half a dozen more pillows and cushions onto the large heap on the couch. "Now, who's helping me build a fort?" He threw a much-too-innocently-suggestive look at Beckett and she was rendered speechless, caught between rationality and pure guilty pleasure.

"Oh." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking between Castle and his mother to buy herself a few seconds to try to find a logical thought in her head. "No, I couldn't—I mean, I only intended to help settle you down here, I didn't plan to stay as long as I already have, never mind—"

"Nonsense, dear! Stay a while, indulge the man-child. God knows he could use someone his age around to play with when Alexis goes to bed."

"Mother."

"Don't pout that lip at me, dear boy, I _gave _you that. Literally." She punctuated her words with a finger to her son's chest, and then used it as a beckoning tool to Kate. "Detective, some wine?"

She knew what the right thing to do was. She knew she had to politely decline, go home, go to bed and catch up for the hours that she didn't get earlier, and _maybe_ call tomorrow to see how Castle was doing.

So, turning to Martha, she said, "Red or white?"

* * *

"I gotta say, it doesn't look half bad." The words barely left the detective's mouth before the brittle yet undeniably cosy-looking makeshift fort collapsed unceremoniously right before them.

She waited for Castle's whine, but instead got, "Is it just me, or does it look even comfier now?"

"If it's so comfy, why don't you hop in already so I can go home? It is—" she glanced at her watch, "well after midnight, after all. Martha and Alexis are already sleeping and some of us do have jobs."

"Ouch. Give a woman a kiss or two and she gets all—"

"Don't finish that."

"I liked your previous methods of making sure I didn't finish my sentences." He waggled his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, holding her wine glass against the side of her head as she crossed her arms, the liquid inevitably clashing with her hair.

"Are you sure you've taken all the meds you need to for tonight?"

"Yes, I'm fine until morning and—"

"Your dressings?"

"Are fresh and clean." He sensed the finality in the way she spoke, and he knew what was coming next. "I can get you a lift home, you know, you have been drinking."

"Oh," she said and set the glass down, shaking her head. "No, no, that's okay. I've barely had one drink, anyway, and besides, I'll need the car tomorrow morning to go into work."

Castle's mouth twisted. "Walk you to the door?"

"I'm not sixteen." She headed for his doorway with a grin, slinging her jacket over her shoulder on the way, and knowing him well enough to know that he was following anyway.

"Why, what are you implying that sixteen-year-old Beckett got up to?"

"Besides motorcycles, tattoos, and piercings, you mean?"

His hand suspended in mid-air on its way to the doorknob and his jaw went slack. "I'm sorry?" She smirked at him and bit her lip, and when that was answer enough, he blew out a sigh and opened the door.

Just as she was making her way out, she stopped and spun to face him again. "You picked up the extra prescription they told you to get on the way home, didn't you?"

"Oh." Her sudden proximity and question threw him a little. Then the answer dawned on him. "Damn it."

She scrunched her nose. "Yeah, damn it. What happened, did you forget?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah, but it'll be fine until morning. I've got enough painkillers in me to last for the night, at least."

"Good. So you're sure you've got everything you need?" He was grinning. "What?"

"You're stalling."

She flicked an eyebrow. "No, I'm not. I'm actually leaving, right now." Still, her feet may as well have been nailed to the floorboards, and she cursed herself for it.

He clicked his tongue in a way that was as endearing as it was annoying. "You know you want to." And then it was just annoying.

"Want to what?"

"You know what." Then he leaned in and he kissed her for the fourth time in the past twenty-four hours, and then all-too-quickly he was pulling away and leaving her reeling.

She found her hand poised threateningly above his chest, as if she was about to give him a good hard poke, before she decided against it. Her fingers curled in the lapels of his jacket instead, and as she thought of that phrase,—what was it? Fight fire with fire?—she reached up and connected her mouth to his hungrily. Suddenly she just didn't care, finding no reason to resist him there, in his doorway. Mindful of his injured shoulder, she pressed the line of her body against his and rocked into him once, twice, three times, before they both gasped for breath and she let go of him.

With a barely concealed smirk and a wipe at his lower lip, she said, "Not stalling." And then she strode down the hallway toward the elevator, and left him slumped, breathless, against his doorframe.

* * *

Her phone buzzed from the nightstand and it brought Beckett straight out of the pre-sleep lull she found herself in. In a state of half-awareness, she reached blindly for the device and without much surprise, but with a lot of irritation, it slipped to the floor.

Once she actually got around to reading the message, she didn't know whether to drop the phone and pray that it smashed, or actually laugh aloud. Castle. "You taste nice. Did I tell you that earlier?" it read. Willing her limbs out of fatigue, she typed back a "No" and left the phone down on her pillow. It barely hit the soft material when it buzzed again, the words "Still up? Why, Detective, are you still thinking about it too?" lit up her screen. Pressing her lips into a firm line to squash the urge to grin, as if he could see her, she shook her head and replied with "Sorry, replied to the wrong message." A whole twenty seconds of deafening silence followed, and when she let her guard down to welcome sleep back in, he came back to sucker punch her with a buzz and a "Ouch."

Having been a whim away from slumber, she only indulged the message with a smirk before she turned her phone off and set it aside—she didn't even know where. But before she could even admonish herself for text giggling in the middle of the night—with Richard Castle, of all people—her house phone rang out shrilly from the kitchen, and then she did let out an audible groan.

"Oh, no way."

Ryan or Esposito or Lanie would only call her on her mobile, never on her house phone—and how the hell did Castle even get it? As she lay in bed, willing for it to just go dead, she tried to recall a time when she gave Castle her home number. It took her until the phone stopped ringing to decide that she hadn't.

Maybe it wasn't even him. For all she knew, it was just wrong number.

But then it started to ring again and she just knew. It was him.

There was no way she was getting out of the comfort of her bed to answer his persistence, so she switched her phone back on and texted a quick "Would you quit it?"

He didn't miss a beat. The phone stopped ringing and a few seconds later came a new message. "Ooh, you really are tired, aren't you?"

"I could muster up the energy to hit you in no time, don't worry" was her reply. And before he could respond, she deftly sent "And how the hell did you get my home number?" That delayed his answer for a while, and even though she knew it was coming, the buzz startled her in the quiet. "I can be thorough when investigating my muses."

With a scoff, she quickly got tired of the texting-like-teenagers thing they had going, brought up his contact's icon, and pressed Call. It rang twice before he answered.

"Really, Castle? Plural?"

"There's only been you and one other person, and she has nothing on you. And do you know how lovely your bedroom voice is, Detective Beckett?"

She ignored the comment and addressed the first part. "_She_?"

"Do I detect a little green monster rearing its head?" he said, and she could not only hear the grin in his voice, but also actually imagine it on his face. All dopey and beautiful and...ugh, _cocky_.

"You wish, Writer Boy. Now," she quickly said before he could intervene, "Are you going to tell me why you're bothering to text me at three in the morning?"

"I can't sleep," he replied, and the childlike innocence in his tone made her soften.

Sighing, she said, "Is it painful?"

"You have no idea." Briefly, she felt a pang of sympathy. But then, "You think a cold shower would've helped, but I just can't stop thinking about it and—"

"Goodnight, Castle."

Her thumb was poised over the End Call option before she heard his voice rise on the other end and bounce around her bedroom. She closed her eyes for a second and actually let herself enjoy it before she caught the words "I just miss you."

Then she brought the phone back to her ear and said, "No. No way, Castle. I agreed to one date, but that does_ not_ mean you get to be a sap."

"It's true! And I am not a sap." Her silence forced him to admit, "Not all the time."

"Let me ask you something, Romeo. Who, exactly, misses me over there, you or little you?"

"Little me? What do you—oh. Oh, oh, no. That is so not what it is. You know, I am offended, Detective, that you would think such of me." He paused. "And _little_ me?" he admonished, and she could _hear_ him shaking his head.

"Oh, I don't mean anything by it, Ricky," she said, her voice teasing. "I'm not that shallow. You know I don't just love you for your body, I love you for all your money and fame."

"You what?"

Her heart rate suddenly spiked, as if compensating for the silence that encompassed, and then she realised it was too late to do anything about it. What in the hell was that? she thought. A slip up. It was just a joke. He was the one who took it seriously and made it all—what? _Real_?

"Just go to sleep, Castle."

Ending the call, she slapped her phone down on the nightstand and willed her pulse to steady. She waited for a callback, a text, _anything_ from him, but it didn't come. Now was her chance to actually get some sleep and that wouldn't come either.

He was really, really getting to her.

_Bastard._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry, guys, I know this is later than usual. It may have to work like this from now on, with things getting busier and all. Still, though, thanks to all the reviews/PMs once again! And, once again, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Kate Beckett's pen scratched at sheet after sheet of paperwork, statements, then signature. Statements, signature. Statements, signature.

Phone call.

With a practised ease, she answered the phone and introduced herself to the citizen on the line. They replied, "Oh, that sounds so badass. I should call your desk phone more often."

She sighed. "Don't even think about it, Castle."

"Then make sure your cell phone's turned on!"

Pausing to feel bewildered, she glanced at her watch, and then around the nearly-empty bullpen. She was the one to flip on the light switch this morning. "Well I didn't expect any calls at this hour. Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing up? Tell me you're at least still in bed."

"Actually, I'm in that cosy little fort you wrangled up for me last night. I couldn't move if I wanted to," he said, the smile on his face audible. "So what're you up to? You got a case?"

"No, I haven't got a case. You'd be the first to know it, Sherlock, remember? Because I'd _have _to seek your help. Consulting detective and all that."

"I'm not the best because I'm the only one; I'm the only one because I'm the best."

"You want me to write that in your report? You gave me a hell of a lot of paperwork, Mr. Castle. You owe me a hand massage after all this." It soon became that she was procrastinating from her work, and she was thankful that neither Ryan nor Esposito were in yet.

"Why stop at hands? If you want, I could—"

"You could shut up, is what you could do." And then before he could persist, "How are you doing today? Take your painkillers? Oh, did you get the ones you forgot about yesterday?"

"I'm doing good, and yes, and yes, it's all good." He sighed, and when her silence asked a question, he said in a considerably lighter tone, "I'm sorry, I'm just bored out of my mind. That's all I hear now, did you take your painkillers? Did you get enough rest, Rick? You look beat, Dad; you should save your energy. I mean, all I was doing was playing the Xbox. Do you know what little physical requirement that has?"

"I'm sorry, Castle," she sympathised, and then thought a moment. "Hey, how about later, we—"

"Yo, Beckett," from Esposito as he entered the bullpen as Beckett pressed the phone to her neck.

"Yeah?"

"What's that you got, a case?"

"Oh, no, it's just Castle." The Latino arched a brow as he took his seat a little way from hers. He knew about the shooting, he knew how Castle's basic physical state was. He did _not _know about the kissing, the date, the...well, last night. "He's just calling to ask if we have a case or not." Esposito looked unconvinced but she looked away anyway.

"Beckett? You still there? Hello? Hello-o."

"Yeah, still here. Sorry, Espo just came in." She could feel the other detective's eyes on her so she spun on her wheeled chair and presented her back to him. Her voice dropped a notch or two.

"Oh," said Castle, sounding dreadfully amused. "Hey, can I tell him that we're going on a date?"

"No." She winced. So much for lowering her voice. Repeating in a softer tone, she said, "No. No way, Castle. Do you have any idea how hard that would make my work life? No. I'd never hear the end of it and you would only _fuel_ them."

There was a pause for a moment. Then he spoke, and his voice was solemn and sweet. Terrifying. "Then what's gonna happen after the date? You know I'm going to want to take you out again, and what if that goes well? When it gets to the third date, then the fourth, then the fifth – how are you gonna not tell them? I mean, how are we supposed to date if we can't—"

"Castle," she hissed.

"What?"

She refrained from shouting down the mouthpiece at him, scold him for being so forward, but instead she closed her eyes and counted to three. "We are going out on one date. That's all I want to think about at the minute, okay? One date. Can't we just leave it there?"

"For now" was all he said in response.

The grin that suddenly adorned her features surprised even her. "Yeah, right, as long as you keep your thoughts to your..." The words died on her lips as she turned in her chair again to find Esposito on his own phone, his arms folded, eyes gleaming, as he looked over at her. "I—Castle—I gotta go, I'll call you later." Realising she dug the hole further, she hastily sputtered, "I mean, to tell you if we have a case or not or whatever," and then she slammed the phone down so hard on its receiver she was sure both Castle and Esposito got a shock.

"Castle, huh?" was all Esposito said from his desk.

"You were—?"

"Mmhmm."

"Javi, I can explain," she tried, but he cut her off by just shaking his head.

"No, no, no, chica, I gotcha." She could tell he was trying not to grin as he made a show of setting his phone down and kicking his feet up on the table. "I mean, it _was_ inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Nothing happened, Esposito, and none of us know if anything will, so just...pipe down and keep your mouth shut."

"Your Writer Boy seemed fairly certain, didn't he?"

She narrowed her eyes and straightened any little objects around her cluttered desk. "It's _Castle._ I mean, how many girls has heard that from him?"

He tilted his head from side to side, as if literally weighing the thoughts. Sceptically, "I don't know, Detective."

"Yeah, and what's that based on?"

"How many women has he followed around like a little puppy—_whipped_ little puppy, at that—for a year, without sleeping with her?"

Beckett faltered. "He's still Castle. And it's still just a date. _One_. It won't mean anything."

"Riiiight."

Her phone rang again, and for a second she was hesitant on answering in case it was Castle, but when she answered, it was to note that a body had dropped. She clicked her fingers, Esposito read her expression, and as she called out the address to him, he ran into Ryan leaving the elevator. He signalled for the Irish detective to turn around and head back into it, where Beckett could have sworn that a few bills of money was exchanged between them before she joined them.

* * *

"Fine."

"Fine?" Castle sidestepped as Beckett pushed right past him in his doorway, strutting right into his loft.

She spun to face him and crossed her arms. "Yeah, fine. Let's hear it, Castle."

"I – let's hear what, exactly?" Confusion clouded his eyebrows, amusement shining through his eyes.

"Something. Anything. Why a plastic surgeon would end up tortured and killed in his own car, in a place he shouldn't normally be, and _no_ _one_ he knows has a clue why he was there." She huffed a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, spiking it against her neck.

He took a whole five seconds to revel in her coming to his home, asking for his help, but didn't dare voice it and piss her off. Then, schooling the smugness out of his features, he said, "Plastic surgeon, you say?"

"Yeah."

"Organ harvester." She rolled her eyes. "What? You said he was tortured, right?"

"Uh huh," she confirmed. "Pre-mortem breaking of the fingers and his fingernails were removed."

"Ouch," he winced. "How was he killed?"

"Asphyxiation. He had a plastic bag taped around his head. Pretty weird, right? Wasn't a robbery, either." She hadn't realised it in her musings, but Castle had ushered her into the kitchen and got her on a stool at the island.

"Tortured first...he knew something, then. And yeah, you're right, it is strange. Premeditation. That's not a convenient way to kill someone, that's following an MO."

"Yeah, but we don't know whose. This guy had to have been into something, but as far as we know, he's not the guy to get involved in criminal elements of any kind." She paused. "He was engaged. Fiancée was a wreck when we brought her in this morning."

He read her expression and said, "I know you'll bring her the closure she needs."

"Yeah," she sighed. "Hopefully."

"It's still early. The boys following up on any leads?" He moved to pick out a bottle of wine from the few racks around his kitchen, holding it up suggestively.

She waved him off. "No, thanks, I'm on duty. And they're out looking for leads more than anything, checking out his office. We had a suspect in earlier, but she alibied out." She raised her eyes to him and there was less seriousness there. "You would've wanted to be in on this one. I kept waiting to hear some snide comment from you for every two seconds that we had her. It was...quieter today."

"Yeah?" He grinned at her. "You miss me?"

"I've told you once that gloating isn't attractive, Castle."

"Oh, my God. That's a _yes._"

"And that's _unattractive_."

He pressed his lips in a taut line to conceal the smirk as he set the wine bottle back in place and began working up two cups of coffee instead. Then, smugly, "I missed you, too." She scoffed and he laughed. "So about our date..."

"I'd rather hear about the 'organ harvester' theory."

"Touché. But I'm not kidding." After a few clinks and stirs, he set each of them a cup of coffee on the counter. "Can we at least decide on a night?"

She considered him; decided that he couldn't escalate so much with a date. "Yeah, all right."

"All right, so I don't want to wait all the way to next weekend." She flicked her eyebrows, giving him a blatant _I could _look, which he chose to ignore. "And I know that this weekend is too soon, given my injuries, holding me back from doing the things that you want to—"

"I should really be getting back to work, you know, Ryan and Esposito are bound to have found something by now and—"

"Wait, no, no, no, I'm sorry." He straightened up instantaneously when she pushed her stool back.

"You know what you should be sorry for?" she said, raising both her eyebrows and her voice. "Calling me at work. You know Ryan and Esposito _know_ now because of that?"

"They know what?"

"What do you think? Esposito got in on the line when you called me earlier. He heard enough. About _us_, Castle. I talked to them, though. If they value their lives, they won't say anything." For some unknown, amusingly comical reason, she lowered her voice to a hiss. "And do you have any idea how many people have been _wagering_ on this?"

He paused to look thoughtful. "Yeah, _I_ even had a stake going. Lost a lot of—"

"Oh, for God's sakes, I'm leaving."

He laughed and followed her up as she stalked off toward the front door, saying, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding." She didn't turn so he caught her by the wrist and recoiled a little when his shoulder thrummed with light but unexpected pain.

Her features softened but she fought the urge to ask if he was okay. He'd apparently had enough of the patronising today. She worked to keep up The Look for both his and her sake. "It hurts?"

"Only a little, when it's provoked." Then, for good measure, "But not as much as it would if you left now without setting a date."

"Cute."

"Come on. _Please._"

She studied him for a few moments and he gave her the purest, most innocent look he could muster. Squashing the urge to grin, she forced a "Fine."

He beamed. "Great. Now, when suits you?"

"Between cases." She drew in a deep breath and thought. "After the one we're working now clears up would be good. Definitely not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe, if we get lucky on something, but most likely Sunday or Monday, especially given your state. Sound good?"

His hand moved from her wrist to her elbow, anchoring her to him just a little more firmly. "Sounds perfect," he said, his eyes crinkling with the effort of the smile. Then, rendering him surprised, he found her lips against his in a soft caress. He whispered on her mouth, "You know, this kinda thing usually happens after the first date."

"Yeah, well," she murmured, the amusement – or happiness? – nope, _giddiness_ – in her tone sending a jolt to his bloodstream. "Don't hear you complaining a lot."

"Nuh-uh."

"Mmm, and besides...you taste kinda nice, Rick. Thanks for the coffee." She threw a glance over his shoulder at the untouched mugs, then leaned back in for a quick, heated kiss, still ultimately leaving him devoid of oxygen. Naturally.

Either to definitively make sure that she teased him to the max or to make sure that he couldn't see her betraying expression, she gave only a quick smirk before she turned and headed straight out the door, leaving it wide open. Like she was daring him to follow her while simultaneously ordering him to just be good and shut it.

That woman.


	7. Chapter 7

"According to the hospital, the procedure lasted nine hours." Esposito added his new information to their timeline as he, Beckett, and Montgomery stood around, watching, listening, trying to piece things together. "Neither the assisting nor the anaesthesiologist were with the hospital. Both were brought in by Dr. Leeds, neither of his regulars."

"A nine-hour mystery operation he didn't want his own people to know about?" from Montgomery.

This may not be a breakthrough in the case, but it stands out as strange, and strange can be helpful in a case. And it's all they have. So Beckett said, "The hospital must've some record of the patient."

Ryan joined then, and said, "Get this, the hospital can't find the file." Beckett's jaw tensed. "It's like it never happened."

"Damn it."

There was a short pause, filled only by the sounds of the cogs working in each detective's head, before the captain said, "Keep workin' that angle. Don't let this one go unless you have something else to go on, so ask anyone you can in that hospital. Someone's got to remember somethin'. That operation sure as hell happened."

Just as the squad broke up again, Beckett remained in front of the murder board until the sound of her cell ringing from her desk picked up her attention. She turned and, without checking the caller ID, answered, "Beckett."

"Hey, you sound tense. How's the case going?" from Castle. Surprise, surprise.

"We could be grinding to a halt on our only lead," she said bitterly, then winced. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"So why're you calling?" she asked in a softer, yet more defeated tone. Making sure neither of the boys were dropping in on the line again, she said, "If this is about dates or—"

"No, no, no. I'm not that bad." There was a pause. "Much."

"You're bored." His silence forced her to sigh and say, "Castle, where's Alexis? Your mom?"

"They're out buying Alexis a new dress for prom," he said with a hint of melancholy. "It's weird. Her first date." Beckett actually gave a little hint of a smile then, before he continued with, "But anyway, I wanted to stay on top of the case, too. You said the boys caught a lead on the plastic surgeon? What do you have?"

A snappy retort about leaving it to the real detectives was on the tip of her tongue before she sighed and decided to humour him. "The boys found a file, hidden in his office, about a patient he had operated on in the hospital. Weird thing is, he didn't take his surgical team, and he even lied to them about doing it."

"Well, do they know who the patient is?"

"Nope. All the information was blacked out on the file, and the hospital has no record of it. Never happened." She popped her Ps with a finality that only encouraged Castle's thinking skills to help.

"Who did you talk to?" he said.

Beckett looked around the bullpen to find Ryan at his desk, working away on his computer. "Hey, Ryan," she called, and when she got his attention, "Who did you talk to in the hospital?"

"Patient information. Why?" he responded. Esposito looked over at the exchange and paused in his tracks, sensing something was coming.

"Tell him that was his first mistake," Beckett heard Castle say down the line. She shifted, felt energy start to move through her, recognising that note in Castle's tone. He was on to something. The two other detectives sensed it, too, on her expression. The tension began to crackle.

"What do you mean?"

"You want to find someone at a hospital who had a treatment there, there's only one department to go to where nothing ever falls through the cracks." He paused, which only strained how hard Beckett was listening to him. She held up a wait-for-it hand to Ryan and Esposito just as Castle sing-songed, "Billing." Beckett's eyes flew to the boys. "Someone had to pay for it, right?"

"Castle, I don't say it often, but thank you." She refrained from the _Yesss_ that her mind was screaming and ended the call. "Boys? Billing."

* * *

"Right now I want to thank you for breaking our case and I want to hit you for the result being an even harder kick in the teeth. So instead, I thought I'd do this." Beckett reached for Castle's face before it could start to rearrange, and she smashed her lips to his bruisingly. Feeding off his startled whimper, she grazed her teeth over his lower lip and scratched her fingernails along his jaw before she withdrew sharply. Almost amusingly, she seemed more relaxed, some of the energy definitely siphoned off.

"Whoa" was all he said. Then he stepped back and beckoned her inside. "I _so_ have to piss you off more often."

"It's a coin flip between that and my Glock. Take your chances all you want." She stepped inside and he followed her to the kitchen. "You got a drink?"

He said with pure entertainment, yet already making his way to the fridge, "I thought you were on duty. Beer?"

"Please. And yes, I am, so just the one. And besides, the way things are looking, I can't see much process happening on our case for the rest of the day." She swiped the beer before he could even open it, and popped the top on the handcuffs clipped to her holster.

All the while, he stared at her with unmasked awe and a little lust. "I always thought you looked cute when you got angry, but..."

She threw him a look as she ventured into his living room, where a little more of her bad energy dissipated upon a look at the makeshift fort, still there and looking deliciously slept-in. He passed her then and made himself comfortable right in the middle of it. She chose the couch.

"So, arousal aside, I want to know what happened on the case."

If she was closer to him, she'd hit him, but instead just took another drink and sighed. "So, our mystery patient's hospital bills were paid promptly and in full." Just when he opened his mouth to gloat, or whatever, she said, "Shut up. The account the money was wired from belonged to the U.S. Attorney's Office. The procedure in the hospital, reconstructive surgery?"

Castle sobered up. "Our killer's looking for someone who changed their identity. Someone in Witness Protection?"

"Likely."

"Did you—"

"Try to get the name of the guy in their protection? Duh."

"And...?"

"You can't break Hard Candy."

Confusion clouded his face. "I'm sorry, Hard Candy?"

She nodded and said, "Candace Robinson," on a sigh. "They won't give us the name. I didn't wholly expect them to, but still. Without knowing who that witness is, there's no other way to get to the next step, so we'll have to try and find a completely different lead to go on and hope for the best."

They lulled into a short silence before Castle said, "Wait. That office deals almost exclusively with organized crime, right?"

She narrowed her eyes, refusing to let the same energy from before flow through her again. "Yeah...so?"

"So, why don't we ask the other side?"

Beckett almost choked on her next pull. "You want to ask the _mob_?"

He shrugged and took a swig of his own drink, as if it were the most casual thing to propose. "Yeah. If they're trying to kill him, they've got to know who he is, right?"

She laughed. "So, then, what? You just wanna hop in the car, drive down to the Bada Bing?"

He waved her off. "No, I know a guy, he owes me a favour." She just stared at him, disbelieving. "What?"

"You 'know a guy'?"

"Yeah, from early Derrick Storm research. He's a capo with one of the families. And I can meet with him."

"You're out of your mind" was all she said as she shook her head.

"Hey, what if he knows something? What if he can tell us something the feds won't?" When Beckett only gave him a look, he said, "You'll see."

* * *

"Lady and gentlemen, can I get a medal over here?"

All three heads of Ryan, Esposito, and Beckett swivelled around to the voice of Castle as he made himself known in the bullpen.

"Castle?"

"Hey, bro, what're you doin' here?" from Esposito as he moved from Beckett's desk to fist-bump the writer. Ryan followed in behind. Beckett remained in front of the murder board, unmoving, except for the irritated furrow of her brow.

"Yeah, what the hell are you doing here?" she reiterated in a sharper tone.

"_I_ got the name of our witness." And when Beckett's gaze didn't soften, he said, "Oh, come on. Why can't I at least come to the precinct? I'm _fine_."

"What's this guy's name?" said Esposito, already heading back to his desk to ready his computer.

"Jimmy. Jimmy Moran. Or The Rat, so they say."

Ryan and Esposito exchanged glances. "Who is they and why do you know a they?"

Castle let three seconds linger in silence, and then, "The less you know the better." Beckett rolled her eyes.

After working the name across his keypad, Esposito came up with a hit and said, "Jimmy 'The Rat' Moran. AKA, Jimmy Pretty."

Ryan clapped a hand to Castle's shoulder and said, "Way to go, man." Wanting nothing more than to stay at the precinct with them, he fought hard not to whimper. But he could have sworn he caught Beckett trying to suppress a knowing grin, anyway.

Esposito brought up a few surveillance pictures as the rest of the gang filed in. "Been linked to gambling, loansharking, and extortion schemes."

"You know, you want a guy to be loyal, you probably shouldn't have nicknamed him The Rat."

"I hear ya," said Castle.

"Okay, so let's start off by digging up all known associates of the Spolano family," from Beckett, eliciting a deadpan look from the Irish detective.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and shrugged. "And while we're at it, we'll just bang our heads against a brick wall. You know, just for fun."

Beckett pursed her lips and ignored him. "We need to talk to Moran. Gotta see what he knows."

Castle's brow furrowed as she stood up straighter and tightens the lapels of her jacket. "I thought 'you can't break Hard Candy'?"

"You have your sources, I have mine," she replied as she began to head for the elevator. Castle debated following or not, but then the thought dawned on him and he rose so fast a flash of pain whirred through his upper body.

Again, he suppressed the threatening hiss, and instead went for "It's not your ex-boyfriend, is it?"

She noted the stronger sound of jealousy underlying the superior reproach and raised her eyebrows at him. "Yes." Then she lowered her voice and said, "Emphasis on _ex_, Castle, so you have nothing to worry about."

He still sulked, his lip curling as he muttered, "Tall, brooding, and judgemental ex."

As they approached the elevator, she stopped and pressed a palm to his chest. "You're not coming."

"What?" The green, green, sulky air lifted. "Why not?"

"I'm going to ask him a favour, not to watch you both measure each of your—" She cut herself off to let her gaze drop pointedly below his waistline and then flick back up to his eyes. His flashed with amusement. "So you're going home, and you're staying there. You're supposed to be resting, anyway and _what_ are you grinning about?"

"You're just so PG-twelve sometimes. It's adorable." He pressed the button for the elevator and as they waited for the cart, he said, "If you get pissed off because this lead doesn't work out, feel free to stop by again, okay? I'll be there for you." Then he couldn't get inside fast enough or push the button for the doors to close hard enough.

They were whirring shut just as Beckett hissed, "Thanks. I'll make sure to bring my Glock."

* * *

Castle was feeling himself closer and closer to the edge of anxiety as he paced his study. It was well after midnight and he hadn't heard from Beckett. He texted, no response. He called, no response. He even dared call her work phone, but it dumped him to voicemail, too. He pondered the thought that maybe she wasn't contacting him purely out of spite of his earlier comment.

God, he needed a distraction. Reading earlier helped a little bit. Alexis coming home from prom did well, too, for a while, but he couldn't ask her to stay up with him.

He could admonish himself. What if Beckett just had a long, tiring day, and called it a night with the boys and just went to bed? That, he wouldn't begrudge her. If he could just _know_.

What if she was still at the precinct, staring at that damn murder board, and planning one of those all-nighters that would put _him _in distress?

Or what if she went home with _Sorenson_?

He groaned. Peeling his coat off the back of the couch, he decided on clean, cool air to clear his head and made his way to the door. But once he opened it, the clearance his head was expecting backfired with a thunderclap.

"Kate?"

She raised her eyes to his. She looked...off. Something was wrong.

He couldn't quite get over the surprise at finding her on the floor, back pressed to the opposite wall of the hallway for support. She didn't often need support at all. "Kate, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I..." She drew in a long breath and strained a faint smile, which didn't manage to reach her eyes. "Gotta be trying to think of the last time you opened a door and seen someone other than me, huh?"

He stepped forward and dropped to a crouch before her, lifting her chin a little in his hand. "What happened?"

The weight of the next two words seemed to drain all of the resilience out of her and it showed as she slid a little further down, anchored only by his hand.

"It's Will."

* * *

_**Just want to reiterate the *Disclaimer, of course*. You guys know what's mine and what's not in this one. So, in short, all the good stuff belongs to Andrew Marlowe, not me. **_

_**Now I'm going to use this as an excuse to ask for feedback, heh. Let me know what you think? **_


	8. Chapter 8

A few seconds passed as Castle tried not to let a reaction show. He moved to sit down beside her, stretched his legs out in front of him, and let his coat fall to his side, the walk forgotten about and his door still wide open facing them. And he waited.

"It was my fault, Castle" came her voice then, distant but weighted with a sadness he heard from her only once before. Still, he said nothing. "I asked him to get me a meeting with Moran and I got it. I blew it. I scared the guy so bad he won't even testify now, and as if that wasn't bad enough..." She shook her head and turned to look at him. "Will, he...on the way to the safe house, someone pulled up and opened fire. He was shot." Her voice cracked then, her mouth dry. But so were her eyes. "He was _shot_, Castle, because of me. He's...okay, but that's two guys within half a week, both shot, scarred, because _I_ was careless with my job." She opened her mouth again as if to continue, but instead she sucked in a shaky breath and let her head tip forward.

Castle gave her a minute before he said, "There was no way you could have known that it was going to happen, Kate."

"No? Their vehicle was attacked leaving _our _meet, Castle."

"So?"

"So, that's not a coincidence. They found out about the meet and followed us. I led them straight to Moran and if I were a better cop, I would've known that. I was just too selfish about our case to see it."

"If you 'were a better cop'?" He shifted slightly so he could face her better, but she kept her chin angled down. "You think this is your fault? Yeah, you pushed for it. Not because it's your job, but because you care." Her lips twitched mirthlessly, but he continued anyway. "When most people come up against a wall, they give up. Not you. You don't let go. You don't back down. That's what makes you extraordinary, Kate."

She didn't appear to be breathing when she looked at him again, and he didn't know why, but he was surprised to see that she was crying. She wasn't sobbing, but crying silent tears that seemed to flow completely unobstructed. It struck him then, why the shock; he hadn't seen her cry before. She was always so stoic, always the hero in front of others. His chest ached when his heart twisted hard.

"How can you think so much of me?" she said then.

He held up two hands helplessly and said, "You make it easy."

She let an unexpected laugh come from low in her throat before stopping herself to sleeve away the wetness on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Castle, I don't know why I came here, I didn't mean to..." When she looked up again, he was on his feet and holding out both hands for her to take.

When she gave him a slightly suspicious look, he smiled softly and said, "Guest bedroom." And still, when she looked hesitant, he pushed. "Come on, you're exhausted in every meaning of the word. I'll wake you early and we'll go into the precinct and do what we do best." He waggled his eyebrows and added, "Or...second best, but that still remains to be seen." She gave him a hard look but the smile betrayed it as she placed her hands in his and let him pull her up.

* * *

"So, Castle," Beckett engaged, curling her legs up under her on his couch with a tired smile. "Is this how you get all the other girls to stay? Once you've got them all emotional on your front door step, you strike?"

He grinned at her and exaggerated a shrug. "How do I know that this isn't how _you_ get into a man's bed? The whole damsel-in-distress thing, seeking comfort in someone special's arms." She huffed a laugh and he gave her a coy look. "Miss Beckett, your intentions had better be pure, because I will not be a man used only for comfort sex."

"What would Nikki Heat do?" she said, her voice a little softer as she looked at him.

"For what?"

"For when she gets...weak." She paused. "You know, other than running to a _special someone's_ arms."

His smile gentled as he shook his head. "She doesn't get weak." He leaned back a little on the couch but held her gaze. "She bottles everything up until it eventually becomes a part of her. She takes it all in her stride." His tone made her look away, so he said then, in a lighter voice, "But that's where Rook comes in, of course."

Wait – "Rook?"

"Spoiler alert. I'm saying no more." He held up his hands and grinned at her, leaning back.

"Rook's a man, isn't he?" When he didn't answer, she narrowed her eyes. "You didn't say anything about a love interest before." Still nothing. She reached for his ear and he yelped just as she tugged.

"Okay, okay, okay! Jeez, don't pull it _off_." He snatched his head away and rubbed at his ear. "Yes, Rook's a love interest. He's a...writer."

"Oh, no."

"Well, technically, he's a journalist for a magazine. He follows Detective Heat around—"

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"—to do the article he was assigned to on the NYPD."

"Seriously?" He just grinned. "You're drawing on our relationship, too?"

"We have a relationship?"

"Yes. Like a man has a relationship with his dog."

"Touché. But yes, okay, so I might've put a character with some similar traits to myself in the book, too."

"They have sex, don't they?" She read his expression and said, "Oh, my God."

"Trust me, you don't have to worry about it," he said, taking a deep breath before adding, "It is _really_ hot." She smacked his good arm and he just laughed.

"Castle, it's not funny. Do you have any idea how much needling I'm going to get over this? Don't you think Ryan and Esposito have enough ammunition as it is?" She let her head fall back and groaned. She gave it a minute to allow herself to sulk about it before she looked at him again. Then she asked the one question that lingered in the back of her mind every time she thought of Castle: "What kind of a relationship is it, exactly?"

"It's...complicated." He looked genuinely thoughtful for a beat. "They're attracted to each other from the first day, of course, although Detective Heat would have been more reluctant to admit it than Rook." Beckett pursed her lips to hide the smile; that sounded familiar in an unspoken way. "They don't do anything about it for weeks, though." Oh, he was getting warmer. "Until one night..." He trailed off, grinning with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

"One night...?" she coaxed.

"There's a complete blackout. Rook follows Heat home to make sure she's okay, like the gentleman he is."

"Oh, so he's _not_ completely like you?"

"Nice. But anyway, he kinda creeps up on her, and on instinct, she strikes him across the jaw. Really hot move, by the way. And then she has no choice but to ask him up to her apartment to ice the sting."

Her shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. "Smooth. Do I even need to ask you to go on?"

"Well, one thing inevitably leads to the other, and...yeah." He threw her an innocent look, then adds in a dramatic tone, "Detective Heat lets herself be who she wanted to be for the first time, just for that one night. It means everything without meaning too much and it's all she could have wanted."

She lets herself smile at his words, even warrants an eye-roll that he seems to enjoy, before she says in a shyer way, "What happens then?"

"They don't talk about it much once she gets back to work." Her chin drops a little, so he feels the need to add, "But Rook bothers her incessantly about taking her out, seeing her again in a more intimate setting than the Twentieth precinct's bullpen." He's rewarded with a chuckle.

"Yeah?" She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, somehow comforted by that fact. Then she sobers up a little again. "How does...Nikki feel about Rook, exactly?"

"Well," he said, "She's slowly but surely succumbing to his charms, whether she likes it or not."

She grins at him, but her voice betrays her when she says, "And Rook?"

The corners of his lips fall a little, but he's still smiling when he says, "Honestly?" Her nod gives him the permission, so he sighs and pauses, some of the humour vanishing from his eyes, yet not taking away any of the warmth. "He's been falling for her since day one." When her lips part but she doesn't say anything, he backpedals, but tries to keep the mirth in his smile when he stands and says, "You know, you really do look exhausted. You should rest. In fact, I think I'm gonna write a little, or a lot, before I hit the sack, so take my bed."

"Oh—no, Castle, I couldn't—"

"Yes, you can, and you will." He held out a hand for her and she took it. "It's much more comfortable than the guest bedroom upstairs, it's warmer, and...well, it smells better."

"You're not gonna go to bed?"

"Oh, I'll sleep wherever the laptop takes me." She pursed her lips. "Look, whether you were in my room or not, I'd still end up crashing in my office, so..."

"All right, fine," she said then, too tired to argue much further. "But if you want to go to bed, wake me up, okay?"

He just nodded as he shooed her in the direction of his bedroom. "I will." His tone said anything but.

* * *

Kate couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, Castle's bed was more than comfortable, and it was all she wanted to do. But no, no such luck. She only managed an hour or two before she woke up again, and now it seemed like a lost cause to try.

She sighed, shifted, and strained her ears to try to hear if Castle was still awake. She couldn't hear the sounds of his keypad, which had lulled her to sleep in the first place. Now there was just silence. She slid out of the bed and made her way to his office, stopping to peer through the crack in the door before she realised that if he was still in there, he wasn't awake.

She was right.

Opening the door a fraction wider, carefully, she threw the room into relief with the waxy light that bled from his bedroom. And there he was, on his chair with his feet kicked up on the desk, the laptop still balanced on his lap, and completely out for the count. That was a safety hazard if ever she seen one.

So, trying to suppress the urge to laugh, she tiptoed over the threshold and sat on the edge of his desk, next to his feet. She tilted her head and studied him for a moment or two, the shadows that played across his face, darkening the five o'clock shadow that licked his jawline. She knew she'd be lying to herself if she ever tried to say that he wasn't attractive, but...just _how_ did she manage to resist him for so long?

_He's been falling for her since day one._

Had she been falling for him, too? She did everything to try to eliminate any of those kinds of feelings toward him, stubborn to believe that he could get to her. He was a playboy after all, wasn't he? If she let him sleep with her, would he be there in the morning? Would he keep following her around?

_I should be thanking you for the changes I've seen in that man_.

Another thing she couldn't stop thinking about: had she really provoked changes in him? Did he really care about her?

She didn't know which answer she was more afraid of.

She sighed, reached forward, and gently smoothed a thumb across his forehead, her fingers splaying through his hair. He looked so relaxed, peaceful. Gorgeous. She took the laptop from his lap and allowed a grin at his screensaver, which blinked with the words "YOU SHOULD BE WRITING", then closed it and slid it on the desk. Hearing a scuffle, she slipped off the desk and retrieved the fallen folders and papers, and then that's when she saw it.

The brown manila envelope that knocked her life off its track for so many years after her nineteenth. And now it looked like it was about to do it again.

* * *

_**Again, you guys know what lines are mine and what aren't. **_

_**I really don't like this chapter. It just would not work, every time I went at it, it just wouldn't work. Hopefully, it's not as out-of-character as it is in my head, but if it is, please, guys, let me know! I need to hear it. Don't be afraid to be blunt, as long as it's constructive in any way. I know that I can do better than this, but don't be afraid to call me out on it.**_

_**Also, to a guest reviewer, thank you for pointing out my sloppiness. I used the word "cork" for a beer bottle top in the last chapter, and I don't know if it's a UK thing or not, but I do know that I call any and every lid/top/stopper/etc a cork. Everything's just a cork to me, haha. And thanks for the review, it was very, very kind! As were the others; I appreciate them very much.**_

_**Once more, I hope some of you still enjoy this story, and if you do, let me know!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_The brown manila envelope that knocked her life off its track for so many years after her nineteenth. And now it looked like it was about to do it again._

She felt winded. Setting the folder aside, she stood and headed back to the bedroom. It felt as though someone had pulled a rug out from under her feet, and en route, she stopped to hold onto the doorframe to find her equilibrium. How long has he had that file? How did he get it? _Why_ did he think it would be okay?

She pushed the questions that made her feel nauseous aside and took her coat from the foot of his bed. Her hair a little ruffled from sleep, clothes wrinkled and looking slept-in, she swung the jacket over her shoulder and left his place despite the time.

* * *

Castle made his way into the bullpen at around nine the next morning, oblivious and armed with two lattés in a cardboard carrier. When he got there, Ryan and Esposito were bustling around, obviously hot on something (yet with unenthusiastic faces), but Beckett was nowhere to be seen. He had been a little worried when she had apparently just disappeared that morning, but he figured she might've had an insight or something, and rushed to the precinct like the crusader she was.

Halting Ryan in his tracks, he said, "Hey, where's Beckett?"

Ryan slipped past him and headed toward his desk, leaving Castle to follow. "She's gone to see if Mario was actually at the office Friday night."

"Mario Guerrero?" said Castle as he set the coffees down on Ryan's desk, which the detective just grimaced at, knowing they'd be forgotten there.

"Yeah. We're re-checking everything. She thinks that the killer already had access to the doctor before we got the case. Someone we already talked to. So, his fiancée and his staff. Mario's got a slightly leaky alibi for last night so she went to check it out."

"Yo, Ryan, did those pictures come in yet?" came Esposito's voice as he made his way over to the two other men. "Hey, Castle, you wanna explain to me why Beckett was so snappy today?"

"I have no idea." His eyebrows clouded briefly. "Why—what was she—"

"She was in at four a.m., stared long and hard at the murder board ever since, and called for us to come in at _six_. Plus she was extra pissed."

"She was fine last night," Castle murmured distractedly, pursing his lips.

"Last night...?"

"Guys," Ryan suddenly cut in, printing something out from the computer.

"What?" from Espo. Castle leaned over the Irishman's shoulder to see, and when he did, the troubled look faded and a grin slid across his lips.

"That's not Maggie." Esposito took down Maggie Dowd's picture from the murder board and held it against the new one her old nursing school had sent over. "That's a different girl."

"Call Beckett," urged Ryan.

* * *

"That's good work, Detective. _Very_ good work," grinned her captain, and Beckett returned it somewhat stiffly. If he noticed, he didn't let on.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a nod as he made his way on, leaving her to turn and face Castle with surprising proximity.

"Okay, you've gotta fill me in."

She pushed past him and tucked her chin down. "Not now, Castle."

He was too quick. He swerved right around her and blocked her path again. "Aw, why not? Just tell me why she did it, I mean, the story on this one's gotta be good. You can't just—"

Sighing sharply, she reiterated, "I said not now, Rick."

He backpedaled, his jaw slackening slightly. "Is everything okay?"

She looked at him, long and hard, for a moment before she said, "If you even have to _ask_, then you're too selfish to know. Excuse me." She sidestepped around him and collected up a few things around her desk with slightly unsteady hands.

He noticed, of course, and set his own subtly down on top of hers. Lowering his voice, he said softly, "What's going on, Kate? Talk to me."

"Why don't you tell _me_ something, huh, Castle?" When confusion flickered in his eyes, she held his gaze and said, "Tell me, if I were to go down to archives right now and look for my mom's file..." He looked as though he had been struck. "Would I find it?" When he couldn't form a coherent response within two seconds, she snatched her hand back and exited the precinct without stopping or looking back.

* * *

"Hey, Beckett, can I just—?" Her door came at him in a swing before it connected sharply with the palm of his hand and he sighed. "Kate, please." He stepped inside her apartment after her and closed the door in a much gentler fashion.

"I didn't ask you to come in, Castle."

"You didn't ask me to wear this shirt today, either." He only shrugged when she burned him with a glare. "Look, can I at least explain?"

"Explain?" She neared him dangerously. "Explain what? How you completely violated my privacy and dug up my past for a _book_? You know, I was pissed when you decided to follow me around without letting me know first, but this? Castle—"

His resolve suddenly hardened. "You think that's why I took that file? For my book?" Her look was answer enough. "Beckett, it wasn't for research. If it was, I...I would have just asked."

"Then _why_ did you take it? Why do you even want to know so much about it? Can't you just respect that it's a part of me that I don't want to talk about? Something that I _don't_ want to bring up?"

He faltered a little and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, I am sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I took it, that I didn't just ask you for it instead. I was curious, Kate. You know me; I want to know what the story is with every case. It's why I came back the first time, remember?" She didn't answer, but her expression didn't soften either. "When you told me about your mom and what happened...it intrigued me, so I just...wanted to know." His gaze dropped with the weight of the guilt. "Yeah, all right, I was immoral and intrusive. I just thought that maybe there could also be something that would..."

"Lead you, the great consultant, to her killer?" she said, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "You thought that you could find something someone else missed, maybe?"

"I don't know. Yeah, _maybe_. I hoped. I thought that, if you wanted to reopen the investigation, that maybe..." Her expression made him stutter. "I-I have resources, Kate. Ones that could help. We could do it—"

"_We_?" She stepped right into his personal space. "Tell me, were you thinking 'we' when you took that file behind my back?" Her K reverberated around his skull, so sharp, like a broken shard. He just had no idea _how_ broken she was. He didn't answer; he couldn't. "I want you to go, Castle. Now."

"You tried to solve the case yourself, didn't you?"

Her face rearranged. "What?"

"Not officially," he said, as if she hadn't spoken. "But you took the case and you spent a lot of time trying to figure out what everything meant, the things that wouldn't add up." Her expression told him he was bang on the nose, so he applied more pressure to that point. "You couldn't."

The words were true but they were painful coming from someone else. Her shoulders slumped a little at the statement: _you couldn't. _"No," she breathed, finally averting her gaze, "I couldn't."

"Couldn't, Kate, because that case is a black hole." He took a light hold of her chin and angled her face back up. "You couldn't find anything because there was nothing to find."

The anger came back with a flare. "What are you saying, that you think it was gang violence, too? That she was just _killed_ for no reason? You're buying that '_random, wayward event_' bullshit?"

"No," he said. "No, I'm not. I'm saying that it was thoroughly covered up." The tension visibly simmered off her a little. "Either meticulously or professionally. Or both."

She was silent for a beat. "Castle, no." She whisked her chin from his hand and took a step back. "It almost killed me to do it, but I put all of that behind me. A _year_ of therapy it took, to realise that if I didn't let it go, it was going to destroy me." Her breathing was uneven when she said, "And so I let it _go_. I can't...you can't...this isn't okay, Castle. How could you think that I'd be all right with this?"

"I'm sorry," he reiterated, but softer now, defeated. "I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't." He reached inside his coat and she knew what was coming before it came. After Castle handed her the file, he turned to leave, and a deep sadness born from something else entirely gripped her. She didn't want to, but she watched him go without stopping him.

She followed him to the door, and then he paused and turned around. "I'm not talking about today, Kate. Or tomorrow. But my offer still stands." She looked confused. "I have resources, I have time, I have patience. If you ever want to have another try at the case, if ever you think that you're ready, I'll be here. You won't have to do it alone."

She gripped the door handle a whole lot tighter and pursed her lips to keep the tremble at bay. "Why?" she managed, but barely. "Castle, you didn't see what I was like back then. I was a wreck. I almost..." She looked at him, almost pleadingly, begging him to understand. Then she voiced her worst fear: "What if all it does is break me again?"

He merely studied her for a long moment, then warranted himself a small smile in the face of her vulnerability. He leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth and promised rather than said, "I'll be there to fix you."

* * *

A well-timed knock on the door elicited a yelp from Castle when it came at a very crucial moment in the movie playing against his shower-curtain-screen. "Holy shit," he breathed as his pulse rate came back down, and he got up to answer the door.

"Castle, hey," said Beckett. Her forehead creased with something that was a coin flip between amusement and curiosity. "What're you doin'?"

"What am I _not_ doing would be a better question." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Alexis is so _strict_. I wanted to fence, she said no. I wanted to laser-tag, she said no. I wanted to play some Guitar Hero, she said no. I wanted to—"

"I get it, she said no." Beckett was fighting a grin. "Just—why are you kinda sweaty?"

"Internet porn," he said as he stood back to let her in. When she looked like she was about to maim him, he said, "Kidding, kidding. Resident Evil, actually, the movies." He gestured to the makeshift home theatre in his living room and said, "You scared the hell outta me just now."

She took one look at the paused screen and said, "Extinction?"

"That is so sexy."

"So where's Martha and Alexis?"

"Well, after they grounded me from all things fun," he started bitterly while she struggled not to laugh. "I decided that they needed a break. Well, they whined for it, but I decided. So they're at the Plaza for the night." He grinned.

"It was out of spite, wasn't it?"

"Totally." He suddenly looked at her in anticipation. "Would you...care to join me?"

He could have sworn he seen a flash of temptation in her eyes before she shook her head with a sigh that sobered them both up. "Actually, I just came to give you something." He cocked his head and she drew her mother's case file from behind her back, holding it out toward him. He made no move to accept it.

"Kate?"

"Take it." Still, he only looked at her, as if gauging her. So she added, "Please."

He let out a deep breath and took it from her, unsure of what to make of it. "What for?" he said softly.

"I want you to keep it. I want you to promise me, however, that you won't look into it until I ask you to."

_Until I ask you to_. He swallowed, grappling with a twinge of deep feeling.

She sensed it and even gave a small smile. "Some day, Castle. Some day, I don't know when, I think I could be ready to open it again, and I've decided that I'd like you around to help me with it when I do." She came closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "If you're up for it, that is," she added softly.

He lightly tossed the folder to the back of the couch and held her to him, and said, "Always." Then he kissed her so she didn't have to see the overly ecstatic, and not very manly expression on his face. With the amount of trust she just placed in him, the step that she just took _with_ him, he imagined that he looked like a little boy on Christmas.

He pulled back and cherished the flush in her cheeks, the staccato rhythm of her breathing through her parted lips, before retrieving the folder from the couch and heading for his office. She waited for a beat before following in suit, to soon find him at his desk, locking the file in the bottom drawer of it. He looked up at her in the doorway, smiled, and said, "Won't see any light until you strike a match."

She thanked him with just a look and crossed the room until she stood behind him in his desk chair. Giving him a back-to-front half-hug, she whispered an audible "Thank you," for good measure. Her gaze drifted to the open laptop sitting facing them, a Word document, and said, "You were writing earlier?"

"Mhmm."

"Heat Wave?"

"Of course."

She bent to a better angle so the glare didn't upset the screen, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder. Then she murmured, "Hey...why don't you show me that scene you were telling me about yesterday?" She fought a smirk when his face swivelled to hers in surprise. Their sudden, bare proximity, coupled with her tone, caused a spark of lust to flare between them, igniting a fire in their eyes. His hand moved to the cursor on his laptop, but she caught his wrist and whispered, "No, no, no. _Show_ me."

She heard rather than felt him swallow. So she initiated it instead. Taking his chin and angling it back to the way it was seconds before, she pressed her lips to his. Amazing, he thought, how soft and tender Kate Beckett could be, as opposed to the tough and badass homicide detective.

But it didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, and soon enough, he spun the chair around to get a better angle just as she began to climb atop of his lap. He grasped her hips and with some amount of difficulty, said, "Not the place."

A flash of disappointment crossed his features, so she said, "The bedroom's right there."

"I know, I know."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I just..." He sighed, brushing his hair back with his hand. "I wanted to sweep you up and carry you in all bridal-style, but I could barely carry my comforter like that earlier, and..."

Her bright and delightfully, uncharacteristically _girly _laughter cut him off. "Oh, come on." She stood up and took his hand, helping him to his feet before tugging him toward the door to his room. It took all that he had not to skip, because this – this was an image he could never have imagined. Following Kate, hand in hand, toward his own bedroom, in his own home, every intimate promise an unspoken agreement between them.

Once they got inside the bedroom and shut the door, the air changed. It _charged_. As soon as they made eye contact, everything just seemed to be happening so fast. She reached for his hair just as he claimed her lips, hard, with a soft mouth. His hands made quick work of her coat, and then her shirt. By the time he had it on the ground, she was falling back onto the bed. Reclining onto her elbows, she reached for him by the waistband of his sweatpants and just the mere graze of her knuckles at his naval was enough to drive him crazy.

He carefully crawled over her, peppering the soft skin of her abdomen, sternum, and neck with kisses before he reached her mouth. She made a fistful of his hair as he worked furiously with her jeans. She raised her pelvis off the mattress to help with the process, and realised that it wasn't the only process she was helping by doing so. She grinned. He groaned. Then he flexed his hips hard and she tilted her chin up with a sigh, giving him the opportunity to graze the sharp ridge of her jawline with his teeth.

She was firing away his shirt and working on his bottoms when he chose to be a gentleman. "Hey...are you sure you wanna do this?" he said.

"You're kidding."

"I just—"

"Shut up," she said, bruising his mouth with a kiss. "And help me get these off."

* * *

_**All right, so, I know that this is slightly longer than the other chapters. Hope that's okay, I just didn't know until I checked the wordcount at the end and I didn't want to try to divide it or anything, so I decided to just leave it. **_

_**I don't know what it is, but this seems to be getting harder and harder to write. Anyone else ever get that? Either it's just a feeling, or the story's spiralling in the wrong way. Let me know what you think. Put my mind at ease or put me out of my misery, please. **_

_**Thanks to all who reviewed that last chapter, too, you're all very sweet. I hope this is still enjoyable!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Okay, so, I know this took longer, too, and for that I apologise.**_

_**Now, normally, I wouldn't do this kinda thing, but since a few people asked, I decided to bump this chapter up to an M rating. So if you don't like that, just scroll right on down. If you do, then...I'm sorry if it's bad; it's just so not my forte, eh heh. So I'm all nervous.**_

_**Also, one more thing, I want to thank you all. (You're groaning because you're sick of reading this, haha.) But I realised just now that I'm at 50 favs, 230 follows, and 110 reviews. And that made my day. So, thanks. :) **_

* * *

Neither Castle nor Beckett could keep up with the pace of each other.

Things had escalated so quickly, clothes and hands moving in a flurry, but once they were free of the restraining material, free of the barriers, free of anything that had come between them in the past year, they froze. Froze in the face of each other, baby blues meeting forest greens and baring a mutual, overwhelming realisation, then acceptance, want, and _need_.

"Castle," she breathed, hands clasped around his biceps, bracing herself. "Now. I want you right now."

"Protection?"

"We won't need my gun."

He laughed breathlessly and said, "That's so going in the book."

"Shh." She kissed him hard, hiking her leg around his waist, effectively halting the laughter. "Pill. And I'm clean. You?"

"Squeaky." He set his forehead against hers. "Ready?"

"Ready." He gripped her knee and pulled it a little tighter around his lower back, and then he moved inside her in one, slow stroke.

Her breathing suddenly escalated like a car revving, without the growl. He paused. She reached for a handful of hair at the back of his head and drew his mouth to hers for a searing kiss. She appreciated the moment to react, adjust, but then, when he still wouldn't move, she moaned and said, "_Castle_."

"Hey, what if I'm taking a moment for my _own_ feelings here?"

"Oh, for God's sake." Without breaking their special bond, she pushed and flipped him under her. If his shoulder was hurting, he wasn't letting on.

"Here," he panted, reaching for her hands, lending her support as she undulated her hips, roiling wave that she was. She squeezed his hands tightly, lips parted but apparently accommodating no breathing. She could only move over him, rocking, rocking, rocking.

She's unbelievably gorgeous. The flutter of her eyelashes against the high edges of her cheekbones, the emerald flecks of her eyes glowing with radiance, her kiss-swollen lips and the way she bit the bottom corner of her mouth. He still couldn't believe it. Any of it.

He tugged her down to steal a kiss, completely throwing her off, and to both of their surprises, the swift change of angle instantaneously did it for her. She let out a raw whimper and bit down on his lower lip, elbows digging into his chest as she pulled on his hair. Pushing her further and bringing her even closer, he swiftly pinned her under him again, hips flexing into a slower motion as he pressed his lips down to hers, long, slow, and smooth in every aspect of their embrace, prolonging her high and dragging it out with every stroke of his pelvis.

She clung to him, overwhelmed, her back arching against his chest as her limbs shook with the ultimate relief of all the tension that had built. A film of sweat covered both of their bodies, keeping their chests glued together as the rhythm of their hips defied the connections. A week ago, neither of them had expected to be any closer to each other than two repellent magnets, and now neither could tell whose sweat was whose.

"Rick," she said, barely a whisper, sensing he was close but holding back. "Come on. Come _on_."

"I'm sorry?" was his response as he moved to look into her eyes, his own shining with amusement and pure affection. "I didn't get that through all the _mmmhh_—"

She gave his hair a sharp tug and said, "Ugh, still a jackass." She failed to hide her grin and he didn't fail to notice.

"You _like_ my—"

"_Castle_, could you just—" She kissed him quiet. "—shut up?"

He chuckled until she raised her hips, and then the laugh filtered to a moan. He grasped her hip with one hand and halted her ministrations, the other hand fisting in the pillow before her head to hold himself up, and then he set his own pace. She was rendered helpless and she hated it, but loved it. He could feel her strain against him, the delicious play of muscle and the thrumming of energy, under his palm, but the noises coming from low in her throat betrayed her.

Soon enough, she had him falling apart above her. Hearing him call her Kate before was always a red flag; an indication of certain seriousness, a teasing remark, whatever – but to hear it like _this_, a hot whisper, said over and over, sent unimaginable sensations throughout her mind and body.

He wasn't just getting to her anymore. He got to her. He _got her_.

* * *

The soft, silver glow of the moonlight bled from the windows and filled Castle's bedroom, giving it an icy bath. Everything was quiet and still, bar for the motion of Rick's hand along her bare back and the small noise of her breathing.

"Castle," came her voice, laden with sleep, with an undercurrent of amusement, surprising him. "Staring."

He grinned, angling his head to try to see her face better. In response, she buried it further into his neck. "You look adorable when you sleep." He felt her open her mouth and quickly said, "Don't begrudge me my sentiment and say that it's creepy." Then he felt a smile and a kiss above his clavicle and his heart melted right then.

"Fine. Then how long have you been feeling sentimental, exactly?" she said, placing a few more kisses up the line of his neck.

"Well," he said, reaching to the bedside table to turn the face of his watch toward him. "You've only been out for about an hour, so..."

"An hour? You've been watching me _sleep_ for an hour?" She couldn't help the amusement leaking a smile as she placed her palms on his chest to push herself up toward his face. "Were you really that bored?"

"Actually, I was quite entertained. You wanna hear the little noises you make every fifteen or twenty minutes. I mean, who'd have thought the badass _Detective_—"

"Oh, shut up. Or I'll be going _home_ next time." She grazed her teeth across his chin and felt him stiffen.

"Next time?" He looked like a little boy.

"Yeah," she said, slightly shyly, nuzzling her nose around his a little. "Is that okay?"

"You're kidding." When she didn't look it, he said, "If I had my way, you'd be moving—"

"Ah, ah, ah, ah," she said, shaking her head with an inevitable grin, despite herself. "Easier, bucko. _Way _easier. But we do still have to go on that..." Her words trailed off when her lips were just an inch from his and she felt something stir inside her. _Literally_. "Wait, you're not still...?" She looked between them and swallowed dryly, inexplicably finding herself breathless.

"Yeah, well." He was grinning as innocently as he could manage. "I didn't wanna wake you by moving or anything, you just looked so peaceful."

"Uh, huh" was all she said as she gave him a coy look. He held his breath as she went to move off him, but then she was pushing back again and all the air left his lungs with a _whoosh_.

"Again?" he said, his eyes widening as a grin picked up the corners of his mouth.

She couldn't help but laugh a little at his expression. Leaning down to press that kiss to his mouth, she smiled and said, "Again."

* * *

"Castle, could you get up already?"

"Why? I'm too comfortable, and the view is just—" His eyes roamed along her barely-clad form as she made her way around his room looking for her clothes. "—spectacular." Her expression said that she either didn't hear him or wasn't listening. He decided the latter was more probable. "Kate?"

"Have you seen my bra?"

His eyes skated around the room until they landed on said black lace. He pursed his lips to hold in the laughter.

When he didn't answer – which was his telltale, she picked up – she turned to him and read his expression. "Where is it?"

"If you think I'm going to direct _you_ to _clothes_..."

She gave him a look and picked up his shirt, then she slipped it on and buttoned a few down the middle.

His jaw went slack as he enthusiastically studied the way the hem tickled the tops of her thighs, barely covering the underwear. "Waow. You know, I don't know if you look hotter with it on or with it off."

"I thought I told you to get up." She picked up a pillow that had been tossed to the ground at some point during the night and fired it at his chest.

"I thought I told you to come back to bed," he retorted, catching the pillow and tossing it straight back to the ground. She gave him a look that made him smirk.

"You've got to shower before your mom and Alexis get home. And I have to _go_ and do the same thing because there is no way I'm doing the walk of shame in front of your fifteen-year-old daughter."

"Oh, don't worry, she's seen it before." When she flicked an eyebrow at him, he hastily added, "I mean, my mother. My mother's walk of shame. Not mine. You know, I was actually a virgin before last—"

"No, no, I know exactly what you mean, Mr. _Bond_—ah, _ha_." She tugged her bra from the top of the wardrobe, provoking the hem of the shirt to ride up her lower back. He swallowed. "How did it even _get_ up there?"

He looked thoughtful. "I recall throwing it over my shoulder. I don't recall doing so with a _rocket_ launcher, but you never know. I don't remember much about last night, except for..." He waited for her to look at him. "The look in your eyes."

"Waow, I _really_ want to hurt you right now." He laughed, then grunted in pain and reached for his shoulder. She hesitated with narrowed eyes, refusing to be sucked into what could be – what she expected to be – a ruse. "You okay?"

"Yeah." His screwed up face disagreed. "It's just throbbing a little. Like a headache. Like a shoulderache." He clicked his fingers. "_That's_ the word. Ache."

She couldn't see a punch line coming anywhere there, so she decided to believe him. "When was the last time you took the painkillers?"

"Last—oh, no. Yesterday morning, actually. I was supposed to take them last night, but..." He half-shrugged with a grin. "Distractions."

"Oh, Castle, I'm sorry." She cringed and headed for the door toward the main room. "I'll go get them. Where abouts...?"

"Wrong door, actually." He chin-nodded toward the bathroom. "Cabinet above the sink. And don't apologise; if I even felt any pain last night, there were plenty of other sensations to compensate for it, believe me." He waggled his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes.

Returning a few moments later with the bottle in hand, she was about to make her way out to the kitchen before she stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait, what if Martha and Alexis come home?"

"Are you kidding? It's only nine o'clock. They mightn't even have left the hotel yet, and they took my credit card. Trust me; they won't be back till way after lunch."

She bit her lip and he could've sworn that he seen her smile before she turned and walked out of his bedroom. He knew he was smiling, watching her go, feeling like two teenagers taking advantage of having their parents' home to themselves. He was still grinning when she came back with the water, and it only grew when she crawled up the bed with the medication.

As she handed him the pill first, he said, "If this is what it takes to get you back in bed..." And then he put the pill in his mouth just as she handed him the water.

"You could've just said that they weren't gonna be home for a while." She smiled at him, beautiful with her hair all tousled, eyes bright and clear. Then the smile vanished and she said, "Not that I don't want to see them, it's just—I'm not ready for them to know that..."

"It's okay," he assured, eyes warm.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Don't worry...I'll _try _not to skip around today, singing Phil Collins in my underwear, but I can't make any promises that they still won't pick up on something."

She laughed and finally just gave in, sliding back under the covers and cuddling into his good side. As he wrapped an arm around her and set the glass down, she reached over to his wound and gingerly traced the edge of the dressing. "This could do with a change," she said, studying it with pursed lips.

When she gave him a questioning look, he said, "Top drawer."

So she took out the medical supplies the hospital supplied him with and set them across her side of the bed. She got up then, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, came back with a small container of salt water and newly cleaned hands.

He could only stare at her, the concentration on her face as she straddled his torso and focused her attention on his shoulder. Carefully loosening the tape, he winced a little as it tugged dryly at his skin.

"Good?"

"Good."

Once she got it all peeled off, the dressing became limp, and she disposed of it at their other side, separate. She soaked some gauze in the saltwater and began to cleanse the little amount of dry blood around the incision, feeling his eyes hot on her the whole time. When the cut was clean, he felt her hands start to shake and he reached up to take them in his, his thumb smoothing across their backs in the same way she did days before.

"You good?" he asked this time.

She didn't answer. She lowered herself and pressed a tender kiss to the bottom of the thankfully short incision, then the top, then the middle, the bullet's mark. He was completely still until he felt a warm teardrop hit his skin a few inches above the wound.

"Kate."

"Sorry," she whispered, swiping her thumb across the dampness before she sat up again. "I just—I can't believe what you did, Castle. And that...that's gonna scar and—"

"_Kate_." He waited for her to come back to him, and when she did, he said, "I know it might've been a funny way of showing it, but..." He watched her stiffen, eyes portraying her fear of what was about to come. "I'd do anything for you."

She swallowed dryly, not knowing what to do with that. There was no humour, no levity in his voice. Just solemnity. It made her heart pound.

He had her cornered.

"And I'm going to tell you something."

"Castle," she warned.

"And you're going to have to listen to it whether you like it or not, because it's been _killing_ me for a long time now."

"Castle, don't—"

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, cutting her off with a bold shake of his head. Then his lips twitched. "Shouldn't you be concentrating on this dressing anyway?"

Oh, she wanted to hit him. Biting on her lower lip, she made good use of avoiding his eye contact and placed the fresh, dry dressing atop his wound.

"Good," he said, a grin blooming for a few seconds. "Now, don't look so scared, okay? You know what's coming. You _know_. I know you do."

"Then why do you have to say it?" she suddenly blurted, ripping off a strip of white tape and running it from over one corner of the dressing to the other. "Can't it at least _wait_? I mean, we haven't even gone out on a date or anything, and this—this is all so new, I mean—"

"I don't have to say it, but I want to. Because you should hear it, and I know you don't want me to, which makes me want to say it all the more—" He yelped when she placed a random bit of tape on his chest and ripped it straight off. "Ow, ow, ow, okay, I'm sorry for that; I was only joking." Breathing through his teeth, he tried to sooth the small burn in the middle of his chest by flicking some of the saltwater on it.

"If you have to do it, _please_ just..." She gestured with her hands. "_Do_ it."

"All right."

She took a deep breath and held it, hands splaying gently across the freshly dressed wound.

"Kate?" He paused. Her stomach flipped. "I think we should have sex on your desk at the precinct."

"_What_?"

"I've completely fallen in love with you."

* * *

_**I'd say I'll wrap this up in the next chapter, specifically because my summer comes to an abrupt halt on Tuesday, so I won't have time to write. I do hope you guys have enjoyed it up til now. **_


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey." Nothing. "_Hey_."

"Hmm?" Barely anything.

Castle grinned. "You wanna try to talk?" He nudged her softly, waiting for her to come back to him. "Or _breathe_...?"

As if it the word itself was a trigger, Beckett's lips automatically bowed as she sucked in a hard breath. "Yeah. Okay." She swallowed and licked her lips, eyes becoming clearer as she looked at him. And then she did something he didn't expect her to: smiled, nervously. "Castle, I..."

"It's okay," he assured her, grinning. He reached for her hands and used them to anchor her down to his chest. "I don't need to hear it just yet."

She pulled away only a little to look at him. "You don't?"

"Nope," he brushed against her mouth. "Because I already know it."

"You're seriously pushing it, you know that? Look, Castle, I'm only ever going to ask you to do one thing." The seriousness in her tone sobered him up and he looked at her with a hint of worry. Had he overstepped? She sighed, then gently pushed back some of the hair on his forehead, the caress of her fingers soothing the doubt in his eyes away. "I want you to just...keep pushing, okay?"

"Keep—?"

"Keep pushing, yes." Her lips twitched. "You know by now that I'm not the easiest person to get to know." His light huff confirmed her statement, despite his grin. "Hey now. And _yes_, I make things difficult, I _know_ that. It's why I'm not very good at this." She gestured between them in the bed and for a second he looked like he was going to make a double-entendre protest when she quickly went on. "But you pushed. You pushed and pulled and scratched and clawed, and as much as it defies all of my efforts, I...it's..." Her mouth twisted in struggle.

"I understand," he said, saving her with a warm smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She blew out a breath she had been holding and smiled more comfortably at him, shifting off him to come to rest at his side. "Good. Now...how about breakfast?"

"Sounds great." She was almost on her feet when Castle tugged her by the arm, pulling her back to him for an intensely sudden kiss. Grinning, he mumbled, "Hey, I l—"

"Oh, for God's _sake_," she moaned, biting down on his lip to cut him off.

"_Ah_," he hissed, laughing at the same time. "Hey, you'll have to get used to it sooner or later. You have no choice."

She yanked her arm free with a smile that contradicted her glare. "So, breakfast."

"I know you don't like it, but hey, it's tough love. And _speaking _of which—"

"Coffee?" she called over the top of his voice as she padded toward the kitchen. She bit her lip to conceal a giggle that was sure to reverberate around the silent loft. He was ruining her completely.

"Only if you make it with—"

She shut the bedroom door behind her with a pointedly loud slam. She could hear him laugh and then it was just too hard to resist. So she didn't. She entered the room again, so swiftly that she _just_ noticed him, up and out of bed, gloriously naked and right before her, hand extended for the door handle.

Without missing a beat, he didn't break his stride once as he grabbed her by her cotton-clad waist and pinned her back to the door. He swallowed her gasp, her surprised laugh, and let the following moan wrap around his heart. He could feel her smile, and the next thing he knew she was pushing off his shoulders, rising, so that she could wrap her legs tightly around his waist.

"Hey, wait," she rasped against his open mouth, tearing her lips away. "This isn't hurting your shoulder?"

His hips danced helplessly against her, the friction of the tail ends of the cotton shirt not helping him in the slightest, as he quickly sought out her lips again. "Nope, painkillers are pretty good."

She'd argue, but the protest died on her tongue when his hands rode his own shirt high up her stomach, sending jolts through her bloodstream. "Mmm—okay, just—" She smoothed her hand around his wrist and gentled his kiss until she was only sipping at his mouth. "Just go easy on yourself." Her hand wrapped around his bicep, thumb stroking the outside of the crisp white dressing on the injured side of his clavicle, soothing whatever sensitised skin she could reach there.

When he tilted his head up to meet her gaze, he didn't have to say it—and neither did she. They both just _knew_. No fibbing, no teasing, no nothing about it. It was just there, bare and blatant.

He closed his eyes as she touched her lips to his hairline, and again they crossed the line that had been challenging them for almost a year.

* * *

_One month later._

Cosy in a booth far from any window lining a wall of his Italian restaurant of choice, Castle tented the laminated menu around his and Beckett's faces. He took cover behind it and she rolled her eyes.

"Castle," she hissed, the green in her eyes catching in the light with a hint of either exasperation or amusement. "I know we're trying to keep things on the down low, but we're not gonna get caught _in here_."

"Hey, I'd announce it on Page Six tomorrow if you'd let me—" She scoffed loudly, and he resumed. "—but you like the privacy. And I respect that. So, really, I'm just respecting you in my actions. _Plus_," he couldn't help but add with a more prominent current of excitement in his voice, "Don't you totally feel like a spy, hiding around like this? We work—"

"_I_ work."

"—with a bunch of detectives and not one of them has a clue." He let the menu flutter to the table with a hollow scrape in his tirade.

"Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself too much," she smirked. "I know that Ryan and Esposito are suspicious. Ever since we went on that date they've been bringing it up over and over and over again. Sooner or later they're going to know that it wasn't the only one."

"Yeah, I know." He suddenly looked thoughtful, but his expression was pregnant. "Espo actually asked me if I got lucky."

Kate looked alarmed. Even still felt it a little bit, at certain angles. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that it couldn't really be called 'getting lucky' if it was for the eleventh or twelfth time in a week."

"Not funny."

He was still laughing when the waiter came to take their orders. After Kate placed hers, she answered her ringing phone and angled her body away from Castle's with a raised hand.

"Beckett."

"Hey, girl, what about our drinks?"

"Lanie!" _Damn it damn it damn it_. "Hey, sorry, I got completely caught up in..." Raising her gaze to Castle's face, she smiled at the way his eyes lit up when in enthusiastic conversation with the waiter/owner whom he knew well. Then she blinked. "Uh...paperwork."

There was silence on the other end, ominous and knowing. And then, "Mhmm, then who do all those voices I hear belong to?" Busted. "Katherine Beckett, if you are on a date, do _not_ let me interject. But if you don't call me first thing in the morning, I—is that _Castle_ I hear?"

Beckett's stomach flipped as she shot him an alarmed look. The waiter had been walking away with their orders on his notebook when Castle took the phone while he mouthed, "Who is it, Lanie?"

Beckett made a wild snatch for it, but he made it futile. "Hey, Lanie," he grinned. "Me and Kate here were actually talking about you earlier." He ignored, seemingly oblivious, Beckett's expression. "She tried to say that she _wouldn't_ look under the sheet if I ended up in a morgue. God forbid," he rapped his knuckles on the table. "But come on. She lies to me all the time, but you have no reason to, so would or wouldn't you be tempted to—"

Beckett almost had to climb over him to get the phone from him and into her own hands. She could hear Lanie laugh at the sounds of a scuffle and it only propelled her. "Lanie! I'm sorry, it's just—we're on a case. Undercover. I didn't want to say anything in case we were heard before, but it seems clear now. Sorry, but can we do drinks tomorrow night?" As she blew a strand of wine-coloured hair from her face, she watched Castle screw his face up with guilt. She gave him a hard look while suppressing a smile.

"Undercover, huh?"

She sounded much too amused for Beckett's liking. "Yeah..."

"Alright, girl. But, uh...I'm gonna want details about this _case_ tomorrow night." And then there was silence as the line went dead.

"Oh, no. Oh, no," Kate groaned, scrubbing a hand down her face as she deflated.

"Alright, Spider Monkey," he said, earning himself a glare as she slipped lopsided from his lap-slash-hip. "Don't worry about it. It's just Lanie. She's your girlfriend, you know it's not the end of the world. She won't say anything if you ask her to."

"I know, it's just...I like the way things are going, with just your family and my dad knowing. They don't really care. Have you _heard_ Lanie over the past year?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" He flashed a cheeky grin. "You two gossiped about me and our blossoming relationship without my knowing, all this time?"

She shot him a look. "Oh yes, we sat up all night long, every night, in our fluffy PJs, talking about how hard and how fast I was falling in love with you."

His eyes widened, flashed with glee, and she immediately gaped. "Nah!" he blurted, shaking his head. "Don't even try to take it back. You can't."

"But—"

"_Nope_. You did it. You dropped the bomb. It's too late." He was beaming. She was flustered.

"Shut up."

He seemed to take pity, because he leaned in and brushed his lips around the corner of her mouth, keeping his eyes open just long enough to see the tension drain from her face muscles. She resented herself for it, and when she could feel his grin against her chin, she couldn't help herself. They were paired together so that she could knock him out of his comfort zone every now and then, right?

"Now that you've got your satisfaction anyway, I guess there's no harm in saying...you know, that I do love you." The words slipped off her tongue with blatant amusement, yet they still felt inexplicably right, and she couldn't deny the way her heart flipped. She expected him to look surprised, it was what she wanted to see, but when he raised his gaze to hers, he detected the kind of sadness there, despite the way she smiled at him. She couldn't hide it, would have needed to realise it before she did. "I love you," she said more softly then, with an almost imperceptible nod. Then she deflected her gaze and dropped her chin a little, a knee-jerk reaction.

"Hey." He lowered his head to press his forehead to hers and angle her face back up with a proximity that still caused his pulse to flutter against his neck. "_Hey_," he said again when he noticed moisture in her eyes. "It's not a bad thing. It can be..._great_. It's one of the _most_ amazing things, Kate. It's scary, but it's worth it."

"It does...it feels great now, and it's amazing, but..." She looked at him, properly, and he thought it was the first time he had ever seen real fear in Kate Beckett's irises. "How long will that last?"

"I'm not going to lie, Kate, it's going to be really hard at times. But I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And I'm not going to let you get away. I'm not going to let you run without me." The firmness and the refreshing seriousness in his tone relieved some weight from her chest. She managed a crooked smile.

"You thinking along the lines of a leash or something?"

The twinkle in his eyes had returned. "I always figured you were kinky."

She smacked his arm gently and shook her head. Then she laughed. "Okay," she mumbled.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." She cradled his jaw in her palm and let out a low sigh, not one of discontentment. "I want this. I want to do this with you. Just..." She struggled, her eyebrows knitting. He shadowed her hand with his own and squeezed it, and she continued in a whisper, "don't let me go, Castle."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He wouldn't. So to seal the contract, he kissed her, loving and deep, leaving her breathless and having to whisper, "How about we get the meal to go?"

He didn't have to think about it. "Off we go, then." She smiled a heart-stopping smile at him. "What?"

"_Off we go_."

* * *

_**Alright, you guys hate me, right? Totally justified. Heh. Apologies. Sincerely. **_

_**I had intended to get this up before school started, but I didn't manage to finish it, and then as soon as school picked up again it was completely blown out of my mind. Along with other minor things, like health, and whatnot. Busy year. So yeah, I actually forgot about this story - and that never happens. You'd think the notifications would've reminded me, but for some reason they all came as a flood yesterday, ones from weeks ago that just didn't show until then, and it was like a kick in the teeth. The story's not the greatest or anything, and at least there was no cliffhanger, but I hated the prospect of having it incomplete. So this could be more for my benefit than you readers, haha.**_

_**Anyway, this is it! This chapter may not be great because it's completely rushed on top of homework and everything, but at least it's tied up, and I hope it suffices. All done and dusted anyway, and I just want to seriously thank those who read and reviewed and followed and favourited; you have no idea what you do for my self-esteem. Love you guys, and have an awesome Season Six! The start was certainly promising, don't you think?**_

_**Maybe see you on the other end of another story if I ever find the time. :)**_


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